#rapeculture hurts everyone. The same rhetoric VSB spouted is used in court to make sure less than 20% of all rapists do time.

Say what?

Turns out, Damon (a.k.a. The Champ) decided to create a really flip response to Zerlina Maxwell’s Ebony.com piece “Stop Telling Women How to Not Get Raped.” Despite Maxwell writing lines like these:

Our community, much like society-at-large, needs a paradigm shift as it relates to our sexual assault prevention efforts. For so long all of our energy has been directed at women, teaching them to be more “ladylike” and to not be “promiscuous” to not drink too much or to not wear a skirt. Newsflash: men don’t decide to become rapists because they spot a woman dressed like a video vixen or because a girl has been sexually assertive.

How about we teach young men when a woman says stop, they stop? How about we teach young men that when a woman has too much to drink that they should not have sex with her, if for no other reason but to protect themselves from being accused of a crime? How about we teach young men that when they see their friends doing something inappropriate to intervene or to stop being friends? The culture that allows men to violate women will continue to flourish so long as there is no great social consequence for men who do so.

Damon still decided to write his piece, essentially asking this question:

But, why can’t both genders be educated on how to act responsibility around each other? What’s stopping us from steadfastly instilling “No always means no!” in the minds of all men and boys and educating women how not to put themselves in certain situations? Of course men shouldn’t attempt to have sex with a woman who’s too drunk to say no, but what’s wrong with reminding women that if you’re 5’1 and 110 pounds, it’s probably not the best idea to take eight shots of Patron while on the first, second, or thirteenth date? Yes, sober women definitely get raped too, but being sober and aware does decrease the likelihood that harm may come your way, and that’s true for each gender.

It seems as if the considerable push back again victim-blaming has pushed all the way past prudence and levelheadedness, making anyone who suggests that “women can actually be taught how to behave too” insensitive or a “rape enabler.” And, while the sentiment in Maxwell’s article suggests that victim-blaming is dangerous, I think it’s even more dangerous to neglect to remind young women that, while it’s never their fault if they happen to get sexually assaulted, they shouldn’t thumb their noses to common sense either.

Damon’s already (somewhat) apologized and been raked over the coals by folks on his site, Twitter, and Tumblr.

So my goal in writing this piece isn’t to hold him accountable–that’s already gone on. My goal in writing this is to answer his question. And since I recently gave a talk at Swarthmore on rape culture, I just so happen to have a bunch of examples and facts right at my fingertips.

First, the primary premise is flawed.

Damon seems to think that reinforcing to men that circumstances and consent are different things means that we are also letting women off the hook for reckless behavior. However, most men aren’t privy to all the rape prevention tactics women employ everyday, as a matter of course. (For the purposes of this discussion, the framing will be around cisgender, heterosexual men and women, though we are not the only people impacted by this type of thinking and this type of violence.)

I could share stories about being told from the time I started going out to always cover your drink with a napkin, never be alone after dark, always have your keys out in case of an attack, to never be alone with a guy you don’t know. I was also told not to open the door for boys I didn’t know, but in my case, it was the boy you kind of know that gets you. But I digress.

We could tell our stories all day, but where’s the data? When I presented at Swathmore, I ran a little experiment based on a question I had. How do men talk about rape? So I took it to the newsstands.

Cosmopolitan Magazine is best known for it’s unrelenting focus on sex tips, meeting men, and the ubiquitous “75 new ways to make him pop!” feature. However, in each issue, Cosmo always has something on rape prevention. Since they are the most popular magazine sold on college campuses, they just rolled out an initiative on stopping campus rape, encouraging their readers to lobby their schools and Congress for changes. If you search the content on the Cosmo website, a search for rape pulls up 24 action oriented articles–however, that is misleading as the majority of Cosmo’s content in magazine exclusive, so a lot of their monthly features aren’t in there. I’ve been reading Cosmo since I was 17–if they run one article on rape prevention each month (and sometimes, they run two), I will have consumed 132 of them. And that’s just Cosmo. Other major women’s magazines, like Essence, Marie Claire, and Glamour also cover rape, but not with the same frequency as Cosmo.

In my talk, before I got into the rape-culture nitty gritty, I asked students to consider a scenario:

[A] spends a late night drinking heavily at a bar. After going a few rounds [A] meets a group of people that includes [B]. [A] continues to hang out with the group for a while, drinking more and more. Later, [A] ends up with [B] alone. [A and B] are both dating other people. Something went down – but [A] was so drunk [A] doesn’t remember exactly what happened. Neither does [B].

I asked who was at fault. There are no easy answers. If I say A is female, a lot of people responding to Champ’s post might have said that she needed to take responsibility for drinking so much. But what if I say A is male and B is female?

This is the rape story in Details, about a guy named Kevin Driscoll who was brought up on rape charges. He’s the person I condensed into the A story.

As he was packing the car, Driscoll got a call on his cell phone. “I don’t know if you know who this is or not,” the caller said, “but, um, this is the girl from the other night.” He remembered her as the pale brunette with the big smile he’d picked up two nights earlier at the Tumble Inn, a dive bar a couple of miles from his home in Redmond. They talked for a few minutes. The woman said she was in a relationship and was freaked out about contracting an STD. Driscoll assured her that he was clean but promised he’d get tested again. “Like, why didn’t you just stop, like, when I was trying to tell you no?” she casually added. “Well, you didn’t say no,” he responded. Soon the woman wished Driscoll a good day, and he hung up, perplexed. He got everyone in the car and started to drive, but he didn’t get far—a police car pulled him over a few blocks away, in front of Pappy’s Pizzeria. Moments later, four more squad cars appeared. The officers, their hands on their guns, ordered Driscoll and Dunn out of the car. One took Driscoll aside and told him he’d have to come down to the station. Driscoll asked for a minute to talk to Dunn, who was getting visibly upset. “That cop told me you beat some girl to death and raped her,” Driscoll recalls her screaming as he walked toward her. “What the fuck is going on?!”

And so began Kevin Driscoll’s nightmare. Charges of first-degree rape—three counts. A very public humiliation. Two trials. And the loss of just about everything he valued in life. After two years, Driscoll was acquitted of all charges—when the not-guilty verdict was handed down, each of the jurors shook his hand—but to him that’s no more than a footnote to the fact that he will forever live under a cloud of accusation, a pariah. Last Halloween he ran into two friends who hadn’t spoken with him since he was taken into custody. “I heard everything worked out for you,” one had said. “Yep, that’s what I heard too,” Driscoll said.

“You didn’t say no” is not a “yes.” And somehow I doubt that people tsk-tsked Driscoll about taking responsibility for how much he was drinking and going home with people he didn’t know. That’s almost exclusively reserved for women. Ultimately, a jury decided to clear Driscoll of the charges–but reading that story as a feminist, I wonder what kind of messages Driscoll received about rape and consent. (Not to mention fidelity.)

Moving on from Driscoll, the crux of my talk was that pop culture helps to normalize rape culture by painting problematic behavior as okay, and even laudable or romantic. Case in point: The Twilight Series. There’s a lot of questionable content in there, that has been discussed for years and years at this point. But it is fascinating to contrast a scene that made it into the movie and the book.

You know what’s so bad about that scene? Besides the fact that you have a man literally forcing himself on a woman (just not with his penis)? The one in the book is actually worse!

Why is she using the type of tactics that rape survivors describe to escape from the situation to talk about this kiss?

But Jacob is still one of two heroes, and he and Bella go on to share a consensual kiss later in the series.

Films and books aren’t the only places where rape culture is normalized.

It also occurs in music videos. In the talk, I illustrate these points with clips from Byron Hurt’s Beyond Beats and Rhymes, and from Sut Jhally’s Dreamworlds 3. (Some images NSFW.)

Sut Jhally takes a multi-genre look at how rape culture is encoded in our society, with seemingly innocuous choices in music videos. While Jhally makes powerful points by just stripping away the sound, but he really drives the point home at 4:12, where he contrasts the images of women being assaulted in Central Park with popular music video tropes.

To expand on an earlier point, here’s the full Limp Bizkit video:

At this point, people who haven’t spent a lot of time thinking through rape culture will be screaming. “All men aren’t like that!” Yeah, most of us are aware of that. But it only takes one to change how you approach other interactions forever. It only takes one to destroy your trust in the inherent goodness of other people. And it only takes one to fuck up your life.

The men reading this probably aren’t that one guy. (Then again, you could be…to someone else.)

But most of us have already met him.

Women are told, over and over again, that it is their responsibility to keep themselves safe. And in the event that you fail, rape culture will ensure that people will blame you for dropping your vigilance, while directing little, if any attention to the person who actually acted without consent. And this is why we started shifting the conversation to speak to men directly.

Because all the words aimed at us still aren’t keeping us safe.

Created by Graydon Sheppard and Kyle Humphrey (and boosted by the star power of Juliette Lewis), “Shit Girls Say” went viral by taking a male perspective on common things “women” do and presenting it as humor. Internet forums filled with comments like “Omigod, all my friends do that” or “that is so me.” The sketch proved to be so popular, there are now three episodes, probably with more in the pipeline.

However, everyone wasn’t laughing at “Shit Girls Say.” Quite a few people noticed that the “girls” referred to in the top video were a certain type of woman, an experience that was not shared by all. Others noted that the humor that made the video funny was actually rooted in sexist stereotypes. Over at Feministing, Samhita explains:

While, I usually applaud men in drag, I can’t help but be critical of these characterizations of women. Are some of these stereotypes uncannily true? I’m sure they can be. But that’s the problem with stereotypes, it’s not about whether they are true or not, it’s that they are used to disempower people or deny them certain privileges. And I get that it is comedy, but it’s like the most boring and lazy comedy possible. You know, let’s make fun of girls cuz we already know everyone thinks they are dumb and annoying tee hee. These videos might as well be beer ads.

And Lynn Crosbie, writing for the Globe and Mail, notes:

Girls, or young women, who already speak largely in the interrogative and treat the world of men as another, completely inscrutable species, have enough on their minds already. They are already sexualized to the maximum. Must their every word be a potential joke?

Girls speak casually about inane things. Girls speak, too, about sexual violence and quantum physics. They talk about fear and art, children, murder and opera; philosophy, blood, sex and mathematics.

The Golden Notebook by Doris Lessing is also some stuff a girl said.

In an interview with the Onion A/V Club, the two creators explain their reasoning:

AVC: Formally, the videos are great because they work like the Twitter feed—they’re just little one-liners stitched together. The obvious precedent would be something like Shit My Dad Says, and the TV show, which spins these sayings into 22-minute episodes. Were you trying to keep things a bit more rapid-fire, in the spirit of the Twitter feed?

GS: I think we were aware of Shit My Dad Says, and we wanted something that would live in the same Internet world as the Twitter feed. In a way, with Shit My Dad Says, it makes sense to do something longer and more anecdotal, because that was Justin [Halpern]’s story: his life with his dad. It was biographical, and there was a lot more material. But [our] tweets aren’t necessarily a single character. They’re not one woman. They’re a specific kind of woman. We don’t in any way purport to represent all women, and I think people understand that. I think our next video goes a little further than the tweets. It’s not a narrative, necessarily, but it’s a little more abstract.

AVC: Some of the criticism your project has received seems to miss this “certain kind of woman” concept that you mention. Something that refers to “girls” as an idea is essentializing, but it doesn’t seem like the concept would work if it were called Shit A Certain Kind Of Woman Who Has Been Socialized To Behave A Certain Way Says. How are you responding to criticism suggesting that the project is sexist or misogynist?

GS: You can’t really respond to it, other than positively. We respect women; we love women; we grew up around women; the people who helped us on the project were women. Obviously we can’t critique anyone for critiquing us in this way. Everyone has the right to critique it. It’s a really interesting dialogue that has come up because of the people criticizing it. It’s tricky territory. It’s sensitive territory. But people have the right to be offended. It’s par for the course, especially if something goes this big, which we never thought it would.

But I’m gay, and Kyle’s gay, and people put things out there about gay people. There are television shows about gay people, and I think we try to not let that define us. We know they don’t necessarily speak for us. I think it’s a really interesting topic. We’ve been learning a lot.

So while there was critique, there was also quite a bit of creation. The next sensation to hit YouTube was a racialized version of the first, “Shit Black Girls Say” clocking in at close to 5 million views.

Comedian Billy Sorrells portrays a character named Peaches, which also proved to be a sensation, though for more puzzling reasons. Naima Ramos-Chapman flinched at some of the humor, noting:

When the meme got a racialized twist with Billy Sorrell’s “Shit Black Girls Say” version, I choked mid-chuckle. Both videos refer to adult women as “girls,” and portray them as weak, stupid, silly, bad with technology, and helpless. And in Sorrell’s version, a part about black women being stuck in abusive relationships is too disturbing given that they are more likely to be victims of domestic violence than white women.

Then came “Shit Asian Girls Say,” which surprisingly saw very little in terms of critique:

Some of these videos sparked heavy internal debates, like “Shit Spanish Girls Say:”

The comments on the YouTube video ranged from “This video = all my Spanish friends” and “I am puertorrican and I found this video extremely hilarious and right on! :0 OH MAA GAAD MAAAAAAAA! I do it all the time!” to “BTW all this shit is Nuyorican and Dominican shit. Don’t disgrace my island.” Many commenters tried to distance themselves from the video:

@mymailbox4404 Yeah, I agree. It’s super embarrassing for Latinos. Caribbeans in particular. Now with that title, they get to attach some ghetto to my people too, lol. No biggie though. Most people on here know these are not Spanish people. But even to classy Puerto Ricans, this must be embarrassing. Did you see all the comments saying “This is sooo my family” or “I talk and act just like that”, like they are proud of this trashy lifestyle. It’s embarrassing.

IslenoGutierrez

And some good old ethnicity and nationality based prejudice:

@mymailbox4404 You are right. It’s taking the title of my people (Spaniards) and attaching ghetto trash to it for the world to see on youtube. All I can say is wow. que vamos hacer? Lol.

But while there are some interesting interpretations of racial stereotypes (white girls eat chips, black girls eat Cheetos, Asian girls eat Pocky, and I couldn’t quite make out what was on the bag in the Spanish video) and some annoyingly persistent gender stereotypes (CAN NO ONE USE A COMPUTER WITHOUT ASSISTANCE?!?! Oh wait, Spanish girls can.) I’m a bit more interested in the aftermath when people started using the meme for social commentary. While there were definitely people using the meme to advance their racist opinions of certain groups of people say, without the wink-nudge insider cred that the above videos rely on to be funny, the meme started mutating, turning the stereotypes in on themselves.

First, the original videos sparked some rebuttals, from women parodying men. Reminiscent of battle (of the sexes) rap popular in the 1990s, the videos featured women performing in drag giving commentary on the men in they know (accompanied by the inevitable “women just aren’t funny” comments).

There’s “Shit Guys Say” – which I have to admit feels like a quicker version of Jersey Shore:

And then there’s “Shit Black Guys Say:”

(Notice the commentary on how often men comment on women’s bodies in both of the videos.)

There are also challenges to the ideas of a unified experience for any group. Look at all the variations on “Shit Gay Guys Say”.

There’s this one:

There’s “Shit Black Gays Say:”

And a part 2:

And “Shit Southern Gay Guys Say:”

It’s notable that these videos are the principals representing themselves (as opposed to someone else’s interpretation of them) – perhaps since these groups are still so invisible in the public eye that no one else but them could speak to their experience.

With a slight tweak, the meme becomes social critique. Just by adding “to” and a second group, the meme found new life.

There’s the hit “Shit White Girls Say to Black Girls, ” which we’ve pointed out before:

and the follow up:

There’s also “Shit White Girls Say to Arab Girls:”

“Shit White Girls Say to Asian Girls:”

“Shit White Girls Say to Brown Girls:”

And “Shit White Guys Say to Asian Girls:”

As our own Thea Lim recently explained in The Guardian:

[T]hings took a turn when Franchesca Ramsey released Shit White Girls Say … to Black Girls, which quickly inspired Nicola Foti’s Shit Girls Say to Gay Guys, and Sameer Asad Gardezi and Kosha Patel then unleashed Shit White Girls Say … to Brown Girls”. Each video showcases a bewigged Ramsey, Foti and Patel reeling off a list of the most awful things your best white girlfriend has ever said. These videos skewer that verbal equivalent of friendly fire: friendly prejudice, if you will.

What’s friendly prejudice? The most common defence of racism is: “But I didn’t intend to be racist.” This response relies on the idea that if we didn’t intend to offend someone, then their feelings can’t possibly be hurt. The Shit X Says to Y videos are delightfully validating because they show that those with the genuinely lovely intentions of being your friend and seeking commonality with you can still be rude and hurtful.

Unsurprisingly, the Shit X Says to Y meme has itself been called offensive. As a commenter on the NPR blog says, “if the roles were reversed … Jesse [Jackson] & [Al] Sharpton, would be involved, lawsuits filed, perhaps riots …” But the roles can’t be reversed. The reason why relationships between white and non-white people, or straight people and gay people are fraught, is because of our history – long gone, recent or ongoing. Racist, homophobic or simply thoughtless comments are insulting not just in and of themselves, but because they are a bilious reminder of the times when straight, white people have dehumanised and denied other groups their human rights. Of course, non-white and gay people can say nasty or even prejudicial things to white and straight people, but those things don’t deliver the sting that comes from decades of being on the wrong end of an unequal relationship (and could I recommend further viewing on this topic: comedian Kumail Nanjiani’s “Racists”).

What bothers some viewers about the Shit X Says to Y meme is that it targets only white women. Critics have said of Foti in particular that it is always sexist when men use women as the brunt of any joke. But privilege does not work in debits and credits, whereby your lack of cultural power as a gay person is paid back by your stores of cultural power as a man. A white woman can be racist to an Asian man, just as a straight black woman can be homophobic to a gay white man. These videos are important because they ask all viewers – regardless of what power they have and what power they lack – to reconsider if their best friendship with non-white and gay people grants them licence to cross the line.

Due to the popularity of the meme, people are reconsidering the impact of their words to their friends, which is the point of this next batch of takes. Exploring the dynamics of relationships between friends can be painful, but what these users created basically amount to humorous public service announcements.

“Stuff Cis People Say to Trans People:”

“Shit Girls Say to Gay Guys:”

And, finally, the ultimate activist mutation of the meme, Shit Everybody Says to Rape Victims:

Outside of “Shit Black Girls Say to White Girls,” none of the other videos got anywhere near the amount of play that “Shit Girls Say” and “Shit Black Girls Say enjoyed.” Maybe that’s because, as a culture, we are accustomed to laughing at stereotypes, but we aren’t prepared to unpack how we perpetuate them.

By Guest Contributor Paula, cross-posted from Heart, Mind and Seoul

The students that I work with – kids and young adults ranging from 5 years to 18 years of age – very clearly understand that there are certain behaviors and language that I will not tolerate or accept in my presence.  Of course the vast majority know that they’re not going to get away with any profanity, but other words including “gay” or “retard”, racial slurs and derogatory actions (such as making an “L” on their forehead to call someone a loser, mocking another student’s speech, calling attention to a part of another student’s body, and yes even pulling ones eyes back to “look” Asian) are not necessarily universally known as utterly unacceptable until I call attention to it and we have a discussion as to why I will not accept it in our collective learning environment.

After the incident, we’ll stop what we’re doing and I’ll do my best to facilitate a discussion around the action or language and explain why it is hurtful to all of us.  Sometimes we’ll do an experiential activity (age appropriate of course) that hopefully drives home the point of impact v. intent and why we need to be aware and responsible of the impact that we’re having on one another.

At the end of the day what I ultimately tell my students is this: Now that you are aware of how I feel about this particular behavior or language and the impact that it can have on me and other people, if you CHOOSE to engage in this behavior or use this language again, I will assume that you are making a conscious choice to hurt me and others in this space and that is not okay.  You have the information now.  It is your choice from now on to use that information for good, not harm.  I will do my very best to protect this space for everyone who enters and I expect you to do the same.

The kids get it.  They really do.  Of course I cannot control what is said and done beyond the classroom, but in my presence they have respected our space and I appreciate and respect them for that.

I think we as adults can take some cues from these students.  Are there people in our lives who are telling us that certain things we say or do are hurtful or offensive?  Are we showing them that we are listening?   Or do we choose to dismiss their feelings and continue to make the deliberate choice to keep on hurting or offending them?

There is a woman in my social circle who has struggled greatly with infertility.  Let’s say that I thought it was cute and funny to call her Infertile Myrtle every time I saw her.  And let’s say that she told me that doesn’t like it because it’s hurtful and offensive and that she’s even explicitly asked me to stop calling her that name.  But let’s say that I really like calling her that because I think it’s an endearing term and because rhyming is just too fun and well, don’t I have a right to my feelings, too?  Well, of course I do.  But I need to decide – is it more important that I not intentionally harm or offend this woman or to do what I want to do simply because I think I have a right to do it?

It seems like a no-brainer, but how many people do we know in the workplace, in our communities and even in our own families who would say that people like this woman need to just “lighten up” and “get a sense of humor, already.”  Gee whiz, I mean, it’s not society’s fault that she’s unable to conceive – why should others have to censor their language just to accommodate her?  And besides, my cousin’s sister-in-law’s aunt’s half-sibling said it doesn’t bother her, so clearly it’s not all that bad.  It’s just a nickname – why does everyone have to be so PC all the time anyway?

But is it just a nickname?  Is it just a costume?  Is it just a simple gesture?  Is it just an innocent punch line?

When we have been told in no uncertain terms that a particular behavior or certain language is hurtful and offensive and when we refuse to acknowledge how our actions are impacting others by purposely choosing to repeat a behavior that we know is hurting a fellow human being, just exactly what does that mean?

I think my students would be able to answer that and I wish more adults were willing to do the same.

By Arturo R. García

Joe Frazier was mourned Monday night, following his death at age 67. And I can’t help but feel that, this time a little more than many, there was the sense that it came too late. Because at any other time, the story of “Smokin’ Joe” – the world heavyweight boxing champion in a time when being so still marked one as The Baddest Man On The Planet – could have marked him as a hero in a decade that sorely needed them. Instead, his defining moments in the era saw him cast as the villain, a role he would sometimes embrace all too well in later years.

For it was Frazier’s luck to run into Muhammad Ali at the height of Ali’s oratory powers. Suddenly Frazier’s American Dream was painted as a staid product of the Establishment, and no one in sports made a career out of defying that like Ali, and the three fights between them, for better and worse, followed Frazier for the rest of his life.

Mr. Frazier’s signature weapon was a destructive left hook, which he used to win his first title in 1968 and floor Ali in their first meeting in 1971. He developed his powerful left as a young child, growing up without electricity or plumbing in rural Beaufort, S.C. His father had lost his left arm in a shooting over a mistress, and young Joe became his father’s left arm.

“When I was a boy, I used to pull a big cross saw with my dad. He’d use his right hand, so I’d have to use my left,” Mr. Frazier once said. After watching boxing on TV with his father, he filled a burlap sack with a brick, rags, corncobs, and moss, then hung it from a tree.

“For the next six, seven years damn near every day I’d hit that heavy bag for an hour at a time,” he wrote in his 1996 autobiography.

At age 15, Mr. Frazier moved north to New York and then Philadelphia, where he found work at Cross Bros. Meat Packing Co. in Kensington. He began training in a Police Athletic League gym, won three national Golden Gloves titles, and then a gold medal at the 1964 Olympics in Tokyo.
- Don Steinberg, Philadelphia Inquirer

Their first bout, on March 8, 1971, at New York’s Madison Square Garden, was one of the most significant fights in boxing history and one of the most famous sporting events of the 20th century. They were undefeated champions when they met in what was simply called “The Fight.” Frazier had won a tournament to claim the title that had been stripped from Ali when the latter refused induction into the military during the Vietnam War and was banished from boxing for 3½ years. Because he hadn’t lost his title in the ring, Ali was still considered by many to be the legitimate champion.

And even though Ali would get the better of Frazier in their storied rivalry, it was Frazier who won the first fight — the biggest of them
all — dropping Ali with his trademark left hook in the 15th and final round and winning a unanimous decision to claim the undisputed championship.

The victory marked the height of Frazier’s career, which he concluded with a record of 32-4-1 with 27 knockouts.

“If Joe Frazier would have fought King Kong, he would have knocked him out that night,” Gene Kilroy, a friend of both fighters who later managed Ali’s business affairs, told The Associated Press. “Nothing was going to stop Joe Frazier.”
- Dan Rafael, ESPN

Right up until the bell rang for Round One, Ali was dead certain that Frazier was through, was convinced that he was no more than a shell, that too many punches to the head had left Frazier only one more solid shot removed from a tin cup and some pencils. “What kind of man can take all those punches to the head?” he asked himself over and over. He could never come up with an answer. Eventually, he dismissed Frazier as the embodiment of animal stupidity. Before the bell Ali was subdued in his corner, often looking down to his manager, Herbert Muhammad, and conversing aimlessly. Once, seeing a bottle of mineral water in front of Herbert, he said, “Watcha got there, Herbert? Gin! You don’t need any of that. Just another day’s work. I’m gonna put a whuppin’ on this nigger’s head.”

Across the ring Joe Frazier was wearing trunks that seemed to have been cut from a farmer’s overalls. He was darkly tense, bobbing up and down as if trying to start a cold motor inside himself. Hatred had never been a part of him, but words like “gorilla,” “ugly,” “ignorant” — all the cruelty of Ali’s endless vilifications — had finally bitten deeply into his soul. He was there not seeking victory alone; he wanted to take Ali’s heart out and then crush it slowly in his hands. One thought of the moment days before, when Ali and Frazier with their handlers between them were walking out of the Malacaûang Palace, and Frazier said to Ali, leaning over and measuring each word, “I’m gonna whup your half-breed ass.”
- Mark Kram, Sports Illustrated

Frazier retired after his next fight — when he was knocked out by [George] Foreman in the fifth round in 1976. He came out of retirement five years later for one fight, a draw with a former convict, Floyd “Jumbo” Cummings, and finished his career with a 32-4-1 record and 27 knockouts.

Frazier lives in Philadelphia, owns and runs a gym there. His health is not the best as he has diabetes and high blood pressure. He and his nemesis have alternated between public apologies and public insults.

One exchange came in 2001 after Ali told The New York Times he was sorry for what he said about Frazier before their first fight. At first, Frazier accepted the apology, but then …

“He didn’t apologize to me — he apologized to the paper,” Frazier said in a June issue of TV Guide. “I’m still waiting [for him] to say it to me.”

Ali’s response: “If you see Frazier, you tell him he’s still a gorilla.”

- Mike Sielski, ESPN Classic

“Frazier beat Ali in the greatest of their fights, but Ali transcended boxing more than any other fighter,” said John DiSanto, who has created a home for Philadelphia’s rich pugilistic history at PhillyBoxingHistory.com. “It doesn’t take anything away from Frazier, but Ali is a different type of a figure. He resonated with people all over the world.”

Men mellow with age, but bridges were burned, and Ali’s overriding fame always seemd to eat at Smokin’ Joe. Until recently, it seems.

“Nobody has anything but good things to say about Muhammad now,” Frazier said. “I’d do anything he needed for me to help.

“I can’t fight the whole world or the whole city by myself.”

- Christopher Wink, Sports Illustrated

It began when Activist X posted a link to this article about the Mixed Roots Film and Literary Festival and noted with some irritation that despite the festival’s claims to inclusivity, there were no Latin@s mentioned in the article. X asked: if Latin@ people are the largest group of multiracial people in the Americas and the festival is supposed to be open to everybody, why weren’t Latin@ people included? A few people agreed with X, and some people who had been at the festival said that they thought Heidi Durrow and the festival were great, but that they could see X’s point.

Enter Activist Y: after expressing some trepidation, Y said that the festival was using the term “mixed race” or “multiracial” to refer to people who had parents of two or more different racial categorisations. Activist Y said that if your whole family shared the same ethnic identity, then you were not mixed in the way the festival intended.

Dear Racializens, I am sure you can imagine what happened next: a veritable Facebook wall brawl — albeit one that was highly intellectual and restrained. Most people sided with X (it was X’s wall to begin with) and Y, after making several long attempts to explain themselves, eventually left in a digital huff.

This exchange brought back some of the most difficult writing that I have ever done on Racialicious: where readers challenged my right to call myself, as a mixed race person with parents of two different races, mixed in a separate way from those who are mixed race but share the same identity as their whole family, for e.g. folks who are mestizo, Creole, African American, Metis, Peranakan…

(From here on in I will refer to people who come from mixed lineage as MRs, and people who have parents of two different and separate racial categorisations as MR2s.)

So here is one of the most important things I have learned from all my years of toiling in the anti-racist trenches here at Racialicious: when you are talking about race with anti-racist people of colour, you are speaking from a place of pain, to a place of pain. (Ok obviously we are about more than pain, but pain is always on the table.) Many of us come to anti-racism through struggle. We are used to having things taken away from us, and we turn to anti-racism to try and arm ourselves against the corrosion of racism. We are sensitive, and we come by it honestly.

Both of my parents are – to the best of my knowledge – the first members of generations and generations of their families to marry outside of the race. When I first started writing about mixedness on Racialicious, I had never heard of mixed race being used in any way other than to refer to people who had parents of two different races. I grew up in Canada and Singapore, and while, as a postcolonial nation, there are many MR communities in Singapore, they refer to themselves as Eurasian, Peranakan or Straits-born Chinese, not mixed race. It was never suggested to me that I might have a similar experience to these folks, and neither did the Eurasian friends I had seem interested in me as an identity buddy. More than this, in Singapore the term “mixed race” was restricted not simply to “a person with parents of two different and separate races”: it was used to specifically refer to people who had one white parent, and one parent of colour. (Obviously, this happens not just in Singapore.)

Through some big f-ups (which you may read here and here and here, though I am sorry to say the comments might be missing on some of those), I learned that many Americans of colour — often African Americans and Latin@s — have a problem with “mixed race” being used solely to refer to MR2s.

Using the term “mixed race” in this narrow way is to systematically erase ethnic histories that bear witness to slavery and colonization; or simply, to erase ethnic histories, period. To do so can be read as an act of white supremacy: it covers up the fact that many Americans, regardless of skin colour or the stories elders are willing to tell, have mixed lineages. To do this silences a whole community’s right to express their experience.

And another thing: it is grating to hear the term “mixed race” applied solely to MR2s, as if we invented mixedness. Cultural forces (usually — though not always — powered by white folks) that select MR2s as somehow unique, or the antidote to racism, or hybridly vigorous, or exquisitely beautiful, are just pouring salt in the wound. After generations of MR folks being ostracised or having to commit violent contortions to have a peaceful life, being mixed is all of a sudden hot – and this is the very moment that the label is being rescinded from MRs. You don’t even get invited to speak at the damn mixed race festival.

And let us note that a lot of this friction gets even hotter when we are talking about MR2s who have a white parent and a parent of colour, because we are talking about people of colour who also have white privilege and/or light-skin privilege.

There are other reasons why MRs get angry when MR2s say that being MR2 mixed is different from being MR mixed – and you are welcome to chime in in the comments, if you are so inclined – but these are the ones I have come across, time and again.

After my Racialicious education, I tried to be sensitive to the fact that “mixed race” can mean MRs or MR2s. To acknowledge this widening of the category, in a post I was writing about Alicia Keys and her warped presentation of historic racial relations, I referred to Alicia Keys as a first generation mixed race person. To my dismay, this language was deemed just as offensive as my original ignorance. Because, a commenter said, the language of generations is offensive and recalls such awful categories as quadroon and octoroon, and because, why, after everything, did I have to keep on insisting that there was a difference between mixed race people from long lines of mixedness, and mixed race people who were racial anomalies in their families?

It wasn’t, I started to realize, that MRs were solely mad that MR2s and the dominant culture didn’t recognize them as mixed. They were mad that a distinction was even being made between themselves, and MR2s. (Perhaps my very decision to say “MRs” and “MR2s” is aggravating this tension right now.)

When you are dealing with sensitive people who are reeling from cultural rejection, distinctions feel like rejections. Why do MR2s think they are so special that they can’t possibly be in the same club with MRs?

So I will dig deep into my horrible well of childhood pain to explain what this distinction business is about.

I come from a nation of two. There’s me, and there is my sibling. When I was growing up, I had no language to explain my experience. I did not know people who were mixed. And these problems were exacerbated by the fact that I was a TCK in a postcolonial nation that was still dealing with a lot of (justifiable) anger towards Westerners, and I was read as white, and I was given a hard time because of that. This was all without a real knowledge of race or racism, but simply a sinking feeling that I was hopelessly and sometimes offensively different from everyone around me, and that those gaps could never be bridged. Until I was in my mid-20s, this was what being mixed was for me. In my family of origin I  did not know a single person — not my grandparents, cousins, my mother and father, or even my sibling (who, thanks to the genetic lottery, came out looking a different race from me and so had their own experience altogether) — who could understand my ethnocultural identity.

Note: I am not saying that only MR2s understand true isolation. Pulllease. I am just saying that this was my experience, and I am sure, sadly enough, that there are many other roads to that kind of loneliness.

So when I meet MRs who come from long and often proud lines of family members who share the same ethnocultural experience as them, I can’t imagine that they could have shared my particular brand of racial isolation. It is not about thinking myself better or even, as some people have alleged, more authentically and mixedly mixed than folks who share a more complete heritage with their family. It is simply that I can’t imagine they could have had the same experience.

Part of this has to be the emo-as-heck tragic mixie inside of me who is too terrified to hope that, after all this time, my nation of two is a nation of millions. I swear, that stupid Blind Melon video where the weird little bee finally finds all the other little bees gets me every time.

I know I could be wrong that there is a yawning distance between MRs and MR2s; but we can never get past the front door of fighting over what I should call myself and what I should call them, to find out. Like I said at the beginning, I’m a sensitive brotherpucker.

Like so many other things, some of this is about the amount of space the dominant culture is willing to allot the people it has marginalized: we are fighting for table scraps because we know the right to tell our own stories is in slight supply. It both frustrates and saddens me that my attempt to assert my identity causes pain to other people who are just trying to do the same thing.

We become possessive over our suffering. There is something that MRs and MR2s definitely have in common: we are fighting over the right to this label and the right to make distinctions, because any concession feels like giving up the history that we fought so hard to survive. I can only wonder at the experience of mixed race people who are both MRs and MR2s. Again, chime in from the comments if you’d like to weigh in.

I guess what I am giving you here is my thought process so far. I have no conclusions when it comes to this fight. Do I think that folks who come from a mixed lineage are mixed? Of course I do. Do I think that they should have the right to call themselves mixed, without qualification? Definitely. Do I believe that we are mixed in the same way? This is something I still struggle with. Do I want to be allies? Do I want to search for kinship where I never thought to look before? Do I want to have a mixed race festival and invite everyone?

Yes. Yes. Yes.

**TRIGGER WARNING**

I recognize the women in this preview: these women were me when I was growing up. The kids at my mostly black Catholic school called me just about every black-related perjorative ever since 3rd grade, letting me know and telling others within my earshot that I was physically inferior solely because I was dark-skinned. I even remember a boy in my 7th grade class drew a picture of me being nothing more than a solid black square. Even though the same kids voted me 8th grade class president…I was still considered in their estimation an ugly (vis-a-vis my skin tone) girl. Even had the only boy who was my boyfriend (we were in 8th grade) dump me for a lighter-skinned and younger girl, to the mocking laughter of the lighter-skinned students.

My mom—a dark-skinned African American herself—told me something that didn’t make any sense through my woundedness: “You know those light-skinned girls people think are pretty in school? Wait ‘til you’re grown and see where you’re at and where they’re at.” Added to this was my mom’s constant admonition to “get an education.” Well, sure enough, what my mom said came to pass. I’ve had photographers approach me and ask to photograph me. I had lovers of various hues—even had a husband. (He was white.) And women of various hues, races, and ethnicities have given me love on the streets, at the job, and at workshops.

I’m not sure how—or even if—some of the women in the clip worked through the pain some black people have inflicted on them. But, instead of the usual devolving, derailing, and erasing conversations of “that’s happened to me, too, though I’m a lighter-skinned black person!” (that’s a thread for another post) or “it wasn’t me! I’m a down black person!” (will be met with an exasperated eyeroll)…it would be a really good thing to simply listen to these women’s truths, as uncomfortable–sometimes, as implicating–as they may be.

Transcript after the jump.

Dark Girls: Preview from Bradinn French on Vimeo.

Voiceover: Rise, dark girls.

Interviewee #1: I can remember being in the bathtub, asking my mom to put bleach in the water so that my skin could be lighter. And so that I can escape the feeling that I had about not being as beautiful, being as acceptable, as lovable.

Interviewee #2: If we’re all just hanging out and a dark-skinned girl walked by, [some would say], “oh, she’s pretty for a dark-skinned girl.” And I’m like, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Interviewee #3: I’d used to wish that I would wake up one day lighter or would wash my face and think that it would change. I thought it was dirt and would try to clean it off but it wouldn’t.

Interviewee #4: Just doing something small as standing in front of class to do show-n-tell, I wouldn’t look up or make eye contact with anyone. I would hold my doll really tight because I knew my toy loved me even if they didn’t.

Interviewee #5: “Here comes Blackie”…”here comes Tar Baby”…I remember one in particular: they’d say, “You stayed in the oven too long.” And that was really hurtful.

Interviewee #6: And they would do it every single day without let-up: on the playground, in the classroom, in the cafeteria. Constantly you got it, so I really didn’t have a high self-esteem.

Interviewee #7: It was so damaging. It made us feel like we were unwanted, that we were less than…

Interviewee #8: My mother and her friend, we were driving somewhere. And she bragging on me: “My daughter is beautiful. She’s got great eyeleashes; she’s got the cheekbones; she’s got great lips.” And she’s going on, and she adds,”Can you imagine if she had any lightness in her skin at all? She’d be gorgeous!” And just that last little part…all that pride I had about, you know, her bragging on me, just dissipated. Just dissipated. And I think that that moment I really became aware.”

Questioner: Show me the smart child. Why is she the smart child?

Child: Because she’s white.

Questioner: OK. Show me the dumb child. And why is she the dumb child?

Child: Because she’s black.

Questioner: Show me the ugly child. And why is she the ugly child?

Child: Because she’s black.

Questioner: Show me the good-looking child. Why is she good-looking?

Child: Because she’s light-skinned.

Interviewee #9: I think I remember most saying, you know, if I have a little girl, I just…I didn’t want her to be dark.

(Chokes back tears)

I remember saying that. I didn’t want her to be dark like me.

Interviewee #1: When you’re around so many people that you trust, you know, just because you’re looking at another black person, and you’re thinking, “I’m black, you’re black. They’re not going to have anything derogatory to say about me.” But when you live so many years with people having certain judgments relative to your skin tone, you start to believe it.

Interviewee #10: A friend of mine had a baby. It was my first time seeing the baby. The baby was beautiful. [The friend ] said, “Gurl, I’m so glad she didn’t come out dark!” and when she said it, it felt like a dagger, like someone took a dagger and stuck it in my heart because I was used to expecting hearing things like that from other races. But this was someone I considered to be my sister.

Interviewee #11: Skin color amongst the black community is a huge issue in our time

Voiceover: This is not a phenomenon, It’s just the reality in the black culture.

Interviewee #12: I believe we didn’t like ourselves. Sure, it started in slavery, but we kept the vicious cycle going.

Man on the street: I mean, you know, dark-skinned women…I really don’t like dark-skinned women. They look funny beside me. So, you know, I’d rather not date a dark-skinned woman.

Off-camera interviewer: You’d rather [date] a light-skinned girl?

Man on the Street: Yeah. Light-skinned pretty girl. Long hair.

Interviewee #10: My experience with Black men is I’m exotic, I’m beautiful…they’re fascinated by me—behind closed doors. But when it came to dating, coming to the front door and taking me out in public? Doesn’t happen.

Interviewee #1: The darker you are, it’s more of a sexual approach. It’s more of a relationship-without-much-meaning sort of approach more than I-could-get-married-to-that-woman-and-have-a-few-kids.

Interviewee #7: All my lighter friends had those boyfriends. They were always seen together. But if someone wanted to date me, it was “I’ll meet you after school.” It was more of a hidden thing. Nobody ever just wanted to be with you.

Intervierwee #5: There’ve been places I’ve gone that there are just a lot of whites, and they would tell me, “You have such beautiful skin! Is that your hair? Did you dye it? Is that your natural hair?” It’s really questionable to me that they think I’m so beautiful and my own people don’t see any beauty in me at all?

Interviewee #13: I was once on CNN, debating the whole controversy about Beyonce ‘s L’Oreal ad. When a picture of her in motion was placed against a picture of her in print, everyone said there’s no way that they didn’t lighten her skin. And I don’t want to believe that that’s still happening in this day and age.

Man #1: And she’s got that good hair, too.

Man #2: You like what?

Man #1: I like girls with that light complexion.

Man #2: You’re a moron.

Man #1: I can’t help it.

Man #2: What? Being a moron?

Man #1: Yeah, that too.

Interviewee #14: Several years ago, I had decided I wanted to, umm, wear a ‘fro. I remember one young lady said to me if she ever had hair look like that, she’s had to cover it. I said to her, “Well, if you take the perm out of your hair, that’s exactly what it looks like.” And she said she’s never seen her natural hair because, from when she was small, her momma had always put something in it.

Young woman: It doesn’t look clean, I feel like. It looks, like, nasty almost. If you just roll out of bed and your hair is nappy, it’s, like, the most disgusting, most unclean thing.

Interviewee #11: I’ve had issues with having longer hair since a small child. And it did come from black kids.

Interviewee #1: Being in school, there was just such a separation among girls who were lighter-skinned and girls who were darker-skinned

Interviewee #15: It was really bad in junior high school. With Nair, I knew people who threw bowls of it in their hair just to take it. So, yeah, we were separated, and it caused a lot of friction among children. Which now, as an adult, just seems stupid to me.

Interviewee #16: The racism we have as a people, among ourselves, is a direct backlash of slavery. The “house niggers” versus the “field niggers.” The paper-bag rule: if you’re darker than a paper bag, the whole thing. We as a people were so disenfranchised that we adopted some of that. A lot of that.

Interviewee #17: I think the problems within the black community has to do more with our lack of unity. We really don’t see each other as being part of the community, partly because we don’t have a language or have something tangible besides our skin color to say, “I am a part of you. You are a part of me.” In the black community it’s, “No, I’m not black! I’m Caribbean,” or ‘No! I’m not black! I’m Haitian.” No, you’re black.

Interviewee #9: Rise, dark girls. Rise.

(Music)

Yes, these women in the clip remind me of myself, where I could have gone mentally (emotionally, spiritually, etc.) if I didn’t have the mom I have. Watching this clip made me want to loan my mom to each and every one of them so they could hear her intervening message and wipe their tears. Moms may even update her advice: “And I’m going to tell you what I just told my own daughter: look at the First Lady and tell me that a dark-skinned woman is unattractive and unloveable.” I may even send Moms over to the house of Interviewee #8’s mom to verbally whup her ass.

At the same time, as I told sex blogger/filmmaker Arielle Loren in our Facebook conversation about the preview, I feel a bit skeeved by the clip. Even though the conversation about shadeism and its particular effects on darker-hued black women is needed, it also plays on the “pitiful, unloveable dusky Negress” trope that can be emotionally exploitive for the participants and for the viewers…and seems to be a new spin on the “unattractive and unmarriable black woman” trope that’s been on the uptick for a minute. As Arielle said in the thread, “While I don’t want to shake the finger at something “positive,” if the director still is in the editing process…It’s important to also show dark girls who were empowered and managed to build strong self-esteem despite the overwhelming negative opinions of our community and society at large.” I responded, “ But what you’re saying makes me wonder if 1) the doc makers (Bill Duke and D. Channsin Berry) even interviewed anyone with an “empowered” perspective or 2) when this clip was edited for the ‘ad campaign’ the thought was ‘let’s use the trope of the ‘unloveable, pitiable dusky Negress’ to get the buzz going and, eventually, to get people to watch it.”

But again, this is a preview. According to the Vimeo page, the film won’t be released until Fall or Winter 2011. I think this film is participating in a conversation that’s so necessary—if, for no one else, for the women in the documentary and for quite a few darker-skinned black women carrying and maybe destructively acting from this wound. But, as we say in these parts, Black people—and that definitely includes Black women—aren’t a monolith. So, I hope this film presents more sides to this issue, more and varied voices of dark-skinned black women to speak about this hurtful issue. And that this clip will be re-edited to reflect those women’s experiences.

If need be, I’ll happily volunteer my mom and me.

Photo credits: Courtesy of Andrea (AJ) Plaid

By Guest Contributor Tami Winfrey Harris, cross-posted from What Tami Said

Hmmm … I’m just digesting Joan Walsh’s analysis of the Cornel West v. President Obama controversy. Now, I think West’s attack on Obama was petty, personal and, perhaps worst of all, an example of destructive policing of blackness from within. So, I was with Walsh until she went here:

But there’s a way in which this whole controversy looks like progressives devouring their own tail. From the left, West attacks Obama for not being black enough; I’ve written about being attacked as a clueless, entitled white progressive for criticizing Obama; in a pro-West backlash, black Obama supporters are being dismissed as “elitist” fronts for white liberals and that half-white guy in the White House. It’s crazy. Read more…

Whoa … whoa … whoa there, Joan! In her article, Walsh goes from pointing out the silliness of “not black enough” charges to using West’s foolishness to imply that analysis of political opinion through the lens of race and other identities is without merit–particularly when leveled at, well, Joan Walsh.

It struck me that Walsh compared criticism of herself to West’s slap at the President. Because I have, in the past, accused Walsh of being “a clueless, entitled white progressive” not for criticizing Barack Obama, who, as our country’s leader should not be immune to criticism. I have criticized him myself. I have inferred that Walsh is a “clueless, entitled white progressive” because of her race-biased commentary during the 2008 presidential elections and afterwards. Consider Walsh’s response when embattled Illinois Gov. Blagojevich appointed Roland Burris to Obama’s old Senate seat:

In her post, Walsh admits that some writers she holds in esteem disagree with her on this–Folks like Digby and Jane Hamsher. but their arguments in favor of Burris (like those of most reasoned people) rest on the Rule of Law. As crappy as it is that Blago got to make this appointment, it seems he is within his legal right to do so. (Read more on why I think the Senate should seat Burris now.) No one seems to be making the Blagojevich/Burris debacle about race, but Bobby Rush…and Joan Walsh.

Walsh snidely refers to Burris as a “champion of professionally black Chicago activists” and rightfully calls him out for opposing Carol Moseley-Braun during her Senate run, in favor of Alan Dixon, who sided with Clarence Thomas over Anita Hill. But then she gets to the crux of her argument:

Imagine that Blago had appointed a white Roland Burris, middle-of-the-road, relatively clean but not a big reformer, a four-time loser for governor and senator with one statewide win behind him/her, who isn’t given a strong chance to run and win in 2010. I find it hard to imagine that Obama and Reid would have reversed their principled anti-Blagojevich stand to back a vaguely qualified but mediocre white cadidate. And what about poor Rep. Danny Davis, the black Chicago congressman who reportedly turned down an appointment by Blago because that’s what he thought a good Democrat was supposed to do? If Davis knew Reid and Obama would fold so quickly, he might be the one sitting in Washington being hailed as the junior senator from Illinois right now.

Ah … Walsh thinks Burris is an affirmative action hire. An incompetent black person being handed an undeserved position of power, just like Bara…oh, I won’t say it. Now, I shouldn’t need to point out (especially to a “professional” feminist–See how condescending that sounds, Joan?) that mediocre white men get appointed to things all the time. It is women and racial minorities and gay people that have to be exceptional. I can’t help thinking that all of this is really about Clinton vs. Obama…again. Walsh is still licking her wounds about Obama winning the Democratic nomination and, as her recent political recap proved, is still angry at those “fools who threw the word ‘racism’ around carelessly.”

Please get over it, Joan. Read more …

My beef with Walsh isn’t that she is ambivalent about Barack Obama; I’m mad at her racial f-ckery. And calling out said f-ckery does not amount to playing “identity politics.” From, I think rightly, calling out West, Walsh pivots to a bit of Tea Party-ish wingeing about analysis of race and politics. You know how Tea Party types always disingenuously claim that they are being accused of racism just for criticizing a black guy, rather than, say, all those racist emails, sound bites and placards featuring Obama in tribal dress with a bone through his nose?

Walsh writes:

But I continue to observe a disturbing ad hominem campaign against Obama critics (the Twitter war rages on, with or without me). If you’re white, it’s “white privilege” speaking. If you’re black, you’re old or jealous or angry you’re left out of Obama’s inner circle. If you’re neither white nor black, you just don’t get American race relations and you should “STFU.” Just today on Twitter, I saw two (white) progressives I respect make wildly contradictory and nasty generalizations about a grouping of Obama critics (of different races; I wasn’t among them): One suggested they’re trashing the president for fame and money; the other that they’re angry they’ve been marginalized by Obama’s popularity. Which is it?

It couldn’t possibly be that any of these people, whatever their age, race or social class, wherever they went to school, have genuine differences with the president? (Or conversely, in the case of Obama defenders being attacked racially and personally, have wonderful and sincere reasons for continuing to support him fervently.)

Of course the election of the first non-white president has sparked lots of debate of race and racism, just as Hillary Clinton’s historic run for the White House sparked talk of gender and naked sexism. We are a highly gender- and race-biased country. Having a man of color or a woman in prominent and powerful spaces touches a sore spot. Sometimes the discussion is foolish: like folks evaluating Obama’s blackness or worrying whether Sarah Palin could handle the vice presidency…because she is a mother…a charge that would never be leveled at a man with children. But the 2008 presidential election and Barack Obama’s presidency have also sparked a lot of sharp analysis of the ways America still fails at race and gender. It’s not all bullshit. Some of it needs to be said.

I would love to have a meaty discussion about what Barack Obama owes progressives, including members of the black community. I’d like to talk about whether black people are really more loyal to Barack Obama than, say, Bill Clinton. I’d be game to discuss whether the vitriolic Twitter discussions Walsh cites are responses to Barack Obama’s blackness or simply reflective of the nature of social media. But by shoehorning herself into this latest article, Walsh reveals a particular sensitivity to racial criticism and, in my opinion, undermines and overshadows her larger points about political discussion.

by Latoya Peterson

Charlie Sheen is a fucking trainwreck.

I caught about five minutes of an E! True Hollywood Story on the man, and saw references to drug abuse and rehab, domestic violence, and a very pissed off Heidi Fleiss, noting that while Sheen is one of the top paid sitcom stars of our time, she was stuck in jail.

Charlie Sheen has been on a downward spiral for a good while now, and it’s clear from comments like these that things are only going to get worse:

Both Today and GMA asked Sheen, who says he underwent private rehab at home, if he is now on drugs. As he told the latter, “Yeah, I am on a drug. It’s called Charlie Sheen! It’s not available, because if you try it once, you will die. Your face will melt off, and your children will weep over your exploded body. … I woke up and decided, you know, I’ve been kicked around, I’ve been criticized. I’ve been this ‘Aww, shucks’ guy with this bitchin’ rock-star life, and I’m finally going to completely embrace it, wrap both arms around it and love it violently. And defend it violently through violent hatred.”

I could normally care less about the troubles of Charlie Sheen, but one of his recent verbal misfires is interesting on a few different levels. Sheen referred to Two and a Half Men creator Chuck Lorre as Chaim Levine in an angry open letter, protesting the cancellation of the show, widely rumored to be because of Sheen’s erratic behavior. After receiving pushback for his remarks, Sheen offered this gem to TMZ:

While Charlie spilled his guts to TMZ yesterday about his hatred for Chuck Lorre, he referred to the “Two and a Half Men” creator as Chaim Levine — the Hebrew translation of CL’s birth name — which many people felt Charlie used in a mean-spirited attempt to denigrate the Jews.

Now Charlie tells TMZ … “I was referring to Chuck by his real name, because I wanted to address the man, not the bulls**t TV persona.”

FYI — Chuck’s birth name is Charles Levine … and his Hebrew name is Chaim.

Charlie added, “So you’re telling me, anytime someone calls me Carlos Estevez, I can claim they are anti-Latino?”

Oh, readers, where do we start?

“I was referring to Chuck by his real name, because I wanted to address the man, not the bulls**t TV persona.”

Number one – Chuck Lorre’s birthname is Charles Levine. So why not just address the letter to Charles? This is where folks are picking up an anti-Semitic vibe. It is a really ugly thing when folks point to your difference as a way to denigrate you, even if they try to play their way around it. Oh, I didn’t use a slur or anything… Uh-huh. It’s hard to pick up tone from a written document, but check out the context where Sheen is trying to address “the man:”

What does this say about Haim Levine [Chuck Lorre] after he tried to use his words to judge and attempt to degrade me. I gracefully ignored this folly for 177 shows … I fire back once and this contaminated little maggot can’t handle my power and can’t handle the truth. I wish him nothing but pain in his silly travels especially if they wind up in my octagon. Clearly I have defeated this earthworm with my words — imagine what I would have done with my fire breathing fists. I urge all my beautiful and loyal fans who embraced this show for almost a decade to walk with me side-by-side as we march up the steps of justice to right this unconscionable wrong.

Remember these are my people … not yours…we will continue on together…

Charlie Sheen

(Sidebar: Wait, I thought we were getting real here. So why not sign that letter Carlos Estevez, since we’ve gone to people’s government/Hebrew names?)

This isn’t a calm, rational discussion Sheen is calling for, especially if you start calling people maggots. Now, some folks have pointed to Lorre’s self-identification on a vanity card as the reason for Sheen’s usage of Chaim Levine. But once again, check the context. Entertainment Weekly explains:

…[S]pecifically, vanity card #327, that aired Feb. 7 after an episode of Two and a Half Men.

On the card, Lorre talks about his visit to Israel and feeling comfortable while “surrounded with DNA much like my own.” Then he concludes:

“Which raises the question, why have I spent a lifetime moving away from that group? How did Chaim become Chuck? How did Levine become Lorre? The only answer I come up with is this: When I was a little boy in Hebrew school the rabbis regularly told us that we were the chosen people. That we were God’s favorites. Which is all well and good except that I went home, observed my family and, despite my tender age, thought to myself, ‘bull$#*!.’”

So Lorre talks about examining his identity, after “a lifetime” of distancing.

And interestingly enough, this is where he and Sheen have common ground.

Charlie Sheen’s father, Martin Sheen, was born Ramón Gerardo Antonio Estévez. The elder Sheen uses both names, one for public life, and one for private. IMDB credits him as saying:

Whenever I would call for an appointment, whether it was a job or an apartment, and I would give my name, there was always that hesitation and when I’d get there, it was always gone. So I thought, I got enough problems trying to get an acting job, so I invented Martin Sheen. I’ve never changed my name; it’s still Estevez officially.

[on changing his name] I never changed it officially. I never will. It’s on my driver’s license and passport and everything: Ramon Gerard Estevez. I started using Sheen, I thought I’d give it a try, and before I knew it, I started making a living with it and then it was too late. In fact, one of my great regrets is that I didn’t keep my name as it was given to me. I knew it bothered my dad.

His sons chose different paths – Charlie Sheen chose to retain the Hollywood surname. Emilio Estevez, his brother, chose to use the name he was born with, but mentioned that is was more to avoid riding his father’s success – and because he liked the initials.

The common thread here is racism and discrimination.  While many people in Hollywood opted to take a stage name for a variety of reasons, actors of certain racial or ethnic backgrounds were under even more pressure to assimilate, in order to even get their foot in the door.  Names become anglicized, roles are carefully selected to avoid being typecast, and people are careful to avoid anything that would provide an excuse to discriminate.  Over time, these changes and deals become habitual.  Toning down one’s given name to be seen as more palatable or acceptable is beginning to fall out of style – but in this comment Sheen reminds us of why this practice began in the first place.  When the simple act of calling someone outside of their chosen name has heavy racial or ethnic undertones, it is because of our nation’s history and how we have historically treated people who were different.

So Sheen’s last line becomes particularly absurd.

“So you’re telling me, anytime someone calls me Carlos Estevez, I can claim they are anti-Latino?”

As with most things, context matters. And I have a feeling that if Sheen were the subject of a hate-filled rant, he would want us to consider the context as well.

But at this point, it appears we aren’t going to hear much out of Sheen, except for the same old, same old.  Check out this apology, which is begging for us to break out a racist apology bingo card:

He apologized to co-creator Chuck Lorre for referring to him by his Hebrew name in radio interviews (he said it was a joke). “Sorry if I offended you,” Sheen said during his sit-down with ABC News’ Andrea Canning (the full interview airs Tuesday on ABC’s 20/20). “Didn’t know you were so sensitive. I thought after you wailing on me for eight years, I could take a few shots back.”

by Latoya Peterson

Last week, the internet was in a tizzy over Aliya S. King’s article for Vibe. The piece, titled the Mean Girls of Morehouse, explored how Morehouse’s change in dress code was really a reaction to a small group of genderqueer students on campus.  The article dove into the lives of these students on campus.  Vibe and King were both blasted for attacking Morehouse, a bastion of the black community, and a video was quickly uploaded to the internet showing a spirited discussion at Morehouse around the content of the article, exploring everything from lack of queer perspective to the representation of Morehouse.

However, through this whole debate, two things have stood out to me:

1. We aren’t hearing very much from those profiled.
2. Most of the conversation has swirled around representation – but what about solidarity? Particularly among groups of color?

The lengthy article alludes to this issue, but doesn’t delve deeply into the issue of solidarity and support. King speaks to other members of the Morehouse gay community:

Of course the Plastics are only a part of Morehouse’s openly gay community. What about those men who don’t wear heels and makeup?

Gathered in a two-bedroom, off-campus apartment are several members of Safe Space, an organization dedicated to supporting the gay community at Morehouse, whether or not the flout the appropriate attire policy.

Michael J. Brewer, 24, is a 2009 graduate of Morehouse who currently works in the office of Georgia State Representative Alisha Thomas Morgan. The former president of Safe Space, he still serves in an advisory capacity. There’s not a swishy bone in Brewer’s body. If he doesn’t tell you he’s gay, you wouldn’t know. In his off-campus apartment, he’s joined by Kevin Webb and Daniel Edwards, the current co-presidents of Safe Space. “In any culture, there will be divisions,” explains Brewer, choosing his words with care as he describes attitudes toward the Plastics. “Yes, there is some dissonance against the more eccentric, ostentatious and flamboyant members of the gay community.”

Kevin chimes in. “In some ways, it’s like it’s okay to be gay. But not that gay. Or it’s okay to be queer. But not that queer,” he says. “There is homophobia even within the gay community—which is something we have to deal with if Morehouse is going to progress.”

Brewer insists that Morehouse’s future hinges on its ability to deal with students like the Plastics and finding a place for them. “My hope is that Morehouse can step into the space of the most progressive colleges in the nation. Morehouse can be a beacon of light. Morehouse can find a place for the LGBT community. Even the ones transitioning to the opposite gender,” says Brewer. “If a student comes to Morehouse as a man and plans to transition to a woman, yes, there should still be a space for that student. It may sound radical. But that’s what Morehouse has always stood for—radical change in the face of injustice.”

But Brian “Bri” Alston has his doubts about whether Morehouse will ever achieve that level of enlightenment. “We know our lives aren’t really reflective of the Morehouse gay black experience,” says Brian. “And Morehouse has enough issues dealing with just the gay community. They don’t know what to do with us.”

While this was the most interesting section of the piece, the narrative around the article has been consumed with more on the reputation of Morehouse and gender identity and a lot less on what we owe each other as members of marginalized communities. In 2008, Jafari Sinclaire Allen wrote a piece for us that begins with “Congratulations, Michael Brewer.” In the piece, he is speaking to an out and proud Morehouse man, one who was able to reconcile his identity with Morehouse’s ideals. But Allen notes:

In return for the “crown,” which we are told Morehouse holds over the head of its sons who endeavor to grow tall enough to wear it, we are asked to buy a bill of goods that include fidelity to image and representation. But what—and whom– does this respectability betray?

Who pays the price for this shoddy mimicry- the picture in which the Black man takes up his “rightful” place at the head of a family with a dutiful longsuffering well-educated but decidedly under-employed light-skinned wife, and children with good hair?

[To each, her and his own, of course. My point here is not to point a finger, but to shine a light.]

How do these images and longings for certain types of lives, mates and relationships get shaped? To whom do we look for examples and for approval? My point here is that Black angst over appearing freaky, weird, less-than, or too Black shape our decisions and the ways we treat each other. Perhaps—the logic goes—if I speak, act and embody the White middle class heterosexual standard, or at least closely approximate it, I will finally be accepted as levelly human, as worthy, employable and loved.

But what violence takes place outside the picture’s pose, in order to frame this ‘just so’ story, in which Black men get to borrow the crumbling crown of the White patriarch? We rarely call into question the concept of “leadership,” or the assumption that an elite college education and middle class status qualify us to take the reins of a community putatively deemed “out of control.” And where do we turn, but to places like Morehouse, where suited and well-spoken men stand poised to do so? [...]

Today, it seems the news at the Atlanta University Center these days is hopeful. As the newly inaugurated President of Morehouse College, Robert Michael Franklin, begins his second year, his support of the “No More ‘No Homo’” campaign is inspiring. There is reason to be cautiously optimistic that the self-appointed makers of Black leaders will finally take up its work of producing 21st Century Black men with open and affirming gender and sexual politics.

There simply is no excuse not to do so.

Now is no time to turn our backs on the work left to do.

And yet, here we are.

Allen’s call to action wasn’t just intended for the Morehouse community – it should be heard by all of us who care about social justice. These are members of our community, who are often suffering in silence, afraid of our judgment and our backlash.

My friend Kavitha posted a link to a depressing article in Mother Jones, aptly titled “Queer and Loathing: Does the Foster Care System Bully Gay Kids?” Considering the plight of many young people caught in the understaffed and overtaxed foster care system, the additional hurdle that young queer kids of color have to go through is gut wrenching. Jason Cherkis reports:

Nothing frightened Kenneth Jones more than the prospect of his first real date. He prepped for it like a court appearance, saving up for a black button-down shirt and for a salon treatment to tame his spiky locks and paint his nails with intricate black-and-gray swirls. He still remembers those last anxious teenage moments. “A lot of mirror time,” he recalls. “Tons of mirror time.”

He needed this to go well. As a gay foster child in Washington, DC, Kenneth spent most of his weekends alone. By the summer of 2009, the isolation had gotten so bad that he’d started calling his cell-phone carrier’s help line with imaginary complaints, just so he could vent to somebody about something. He would even text himself encouraging messages, like “Good job,” or “Damn you so strong.”

He needn’t have worried. Kenneth and his date took an afternoon swim, made out during G.I. Joe, and finished the evening at Chipotle. More dates followed. After a few weeks, taking his new boyfriend home seemed like the natural next step. And so it was that James, Kenneth’s foster father, returned to the apartment one night to find the boys talking and laughing in the front room. The introductions immediately turned into what Kenneth calls a “life-or-death situation.” [...]

Across the nation, social workers and children’s advocates have their own Kenneth stories—the gay youth in Jacksonville, Florida, who tore through 48 placements in four years; the lesbian teen in Connecticut who made a pinky promise with her social worker to “not be gay.” The changes in mainstream attitudes that have made life easier for gay adults in recent years have also made it easier for gay teens to come out of the closet. But that doesn’t mean foster parents and child-welfare agencies have kept pace with the times. Kids “question their sexual orientation more” nowadays, says Cindy Watson, who directs a center for gay youth in Jacksonville. “That’s a dangerous place to be. And the system is not a safe place.”

According to the American Bar Association’s 2008 guidebook (PDF) for child-welfare lawyers and judges, virtually all lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, and questioning kids in group homes had reported verbal harassment; 70 percent had been subjected to violence; and 78 percent had either run away or been removed from a foster placement for reasons related to their sexuality. “They are the one population thrown out of their home because of who they are,” says Gerald P. Mallon, a professor at New York’s Hunter College School of Social Work.

There is so much pain. There is so much hurt. And this is coming from our people, members of our communities.

We have to work harder to bridge these gaps.

Dan Savage’s “It Gets Better” Campaign has made its way around the internet and the mainstream media a few weeks ago, pulling together a wide range of people to assure queer kids that life does get better – if they live long enough to see it out.  One video, Kristel Yoneda from Honolulu, HI, really struck me for her openness in reminiscing about that period in her life:

Kristel said:

I remember as a junior, one day I got called into the office in the middle of class. I thought maybe my mom had left me a message at the office or something, but it turns out the counselor wanted to speak with me. So we sit down, and we make small talk for a little while and she says “You know, there are these rumors going around that you’re gay. You’re not gay, are you?” And I remember it wasn’t with that tone where it was like “ok, you’re gay, it’s ok, this is a safe environment,” it was that tone that tells you, “You better not be gay, don’t tell me that you’re gay.” And I was shocked. Before I could even process the question properly, before I could really even answer, I remember denying it. Flat-out denying it, which was a lie of course. And she asked me again, “Are you gay, are you gay? Are you gay with your friend? I heard she’s gay too. So here I was, denying it. I’m not gay, my friend’s not gay, we’re not together, none of us are gay.

And I remembered she just looked at me and said “Well, I heard she’s a slut.”

And I didn’t know what to say, you know? Had this conversation happened now, it would have gone so much differently, you know? I would have stood up for myself. I would have stood up for my friend. But the truth is, you know, I was fifteen years old. And I was speaking to someone who was supposed to be someone I could confide in. They were an authority figure I was supposed to feel safe with, and in that moment she shattered all my faith in that system.

Some folks have criticized Savage’s campaign, saying that we should not ask gay teens to stand by and accept their own bullying. I can understand that criticism, but at the same time, I can hear the message Savage is trying to convey. Adolescence is a strange, awkward period of time for most of us – we are in the process of discovering who we are, and we are still learning to navigate our peers and parents/guardians. We are starting to learn some of life’s harshest lessons, and beginning the journey toward adulthood. For those of us who have left this phase in our development, we can say that it does get better. It isn’t guaranteed to do so, but most adults have one thing teens lack: control over their lives. At some point, the decisions you make become those you determine. And that kind of control and autonomy does make a world of difference.

But still, as adults, as those who’ve been through it (or similar rough situations) we can always do more.

Last week, reader Tomee Sojourner sent in a video campaign to promote an alternative campaign, saying:

In light of recent mainstream LGBTQ response to LGBT/Queer youth suicides in US and other parts of the world, the Embracing Intersectional Diversity Project (EID Project) wanted to shine a spotlight on how homophobic/transphobic and racist violence manifests itself in our communities. In particular, how racialized and intersectional identities need to be visible in how narratives are shared, mourned, and calls to action are made. The EID Project team feels that the lack of discussion about the affect/impact of racism on how bullying and homophobia take shape, is not only dismissive, it is in fact irresponsible.

The Embracing Intersectional Diversity Project is a not-for-profit organization based in Montreal, QC. Our team decided to generate a call to action and campaign, ‘I AM PROOF THAT IT GETS BETTER’ to get folks to situate racialized and intersectional identities in the discussions, debates, dialogues, and movement building around challenging homophobic bullying, violence, and empowering queer youth.

The EID Project campaign places race, gender expression, and the lived experiences of queer folks of colour and two-spirited folks at the centre rather than on the periphery. The project asks folks to step up to do MORE and ACT.

As Director of the Embracing Intersectional Diversity Project, I created a brief youtube clip in response to the EID Project’s call to action.  On a personal note, Ihave had enough of the erasure of racialized, gendered, and intersectional violence and forms of oppression that queer folks of colour and two-spirited folks face on a daily basis. I have also moved in too many spaces where folks feel that they have very little option but to no longer exist. As a Black, masculine-identified queer woman, Social Justice Activist, Artist, Social Entrepreneur, former College Professor, Auntie, Femtor, and Partner, I move in this world with intersectional identities. In addition, I have experienced intersectional violence.

This campaign will generate spaces where folks can share knowledge, ideas, skills, and engage in difficult dialogues for the purpose of growing progressive, sustainable social change, one connection at a time.

To non activists, this just sounds like a mouthful.  But all Tomee is really asking for is for us to ensure that we are examining what is going on in the lives of others.

So please. Do something. Reach out. Read queer writing, theory, poetry. Add some queer POC blogs to your feed reader or rotation.

We can’t afford to leave so many members of our community out in the cold.

CNN anchor Rick Sanchez was tired of being the butt of everyone’s joke.

He was done with hiding things. He was fed up with playing corporate games. So last Friday, Rick Sanchez went on Pete Dominick’s Sirius hosted XM radio show to get a lot of things off his chest.

Sanchez came out firing – and hit two targets, his own leg, and a few passerby.

His comments on the biased nature of news media were dead on until they veered into bigoted territory. His attacks on Jon Stewart, specifically about his ethnicity, veered fully into old antisemitic tropes. This led to Sanchez’s firing from CNN on the day the news broke.

The reactions around the media world are a mess, and unpacking the issues behind the situation becomes a wild ride through the dynamics of oppression, kyriarchy, professional passing, media conglomerates, and prejudice.

The Wrap has up a partial transcript of the interview (emphasis mine):

RS- It’s not just the right that does this. cause I’ve known a lot of elite Northeast establishment liberals that may not use this as a
business model but deep down when they look at a guy like me they look at a– they see a guy automatically who belongs in the second tier and not the top tier.

PD- Why do you say that? Give me an example – because you’re Cuban-American…

RS- I had a guy who works here at CNN who’s a top brass come to me and say, ‘You know what, I don’t want you to –

PD- ‘Will you wash this dish for me, Sanchez?’

RS- No no, see that’s the thing; it’s more subtle. White folks usually don’t see it. But we do – those of us who are minorities and women see it sometimes too from men in authority. Here, I’ll give you my example its this ‘You know what, I don’t want you anchoring anymore, I really don’t see you as an anchor, I see you more as a reporter, I see you more as a John Quinones – you know the guy on ABC. That’s what he told me. He told me he saw me as John Quinones. Now, did he not realize that he was telling me, ‘When I see you I think of Hispanic reporters’? Cause in his mind I can’t be an anchor. An anchor is what you give the high-profile white guys, you know. So he knocks me down to that and compares me to that and it happens all the time i think.

All true. I particularly like where Sanchez stops Dominick in his example to point out that racism isn’t always as overt as someone being compressed into an existing stereotype. Often, particularly in media, minorities face racism because they do not fit a certain mold. That’s something that always frustrates me when talking to well-meaning folks about racism. It’s very easy for them to identify really egregious examples – much harder for them to acknowledge some biases are quiet, yet devastating. After all, we aren’t hearing broadcasts from Ricardo León Sánchez de Reinaldo.

But now, let’s break down the rest of Sanchez’s comments:

RS – To a certain extent Jon Stewart and Colbert are the same way. I think Jon Stewart’s a bigot.

PD- You think Jon Stewart is a bigot? Hold on now were going to get into it, Jon Stewart my old boss, my friend.

RS: Yeah I think he’s a bigot.

PD: How is he a bigot?

RS: I think he looks at the world through his mom who was a schoolteacher, and his dad who was a physicist or something like that. Great, I’m so happy that he grew up in a suburban middle class New Jersey home with everything that you could ever imagine.

PD: What group is he bigoted towards?

RS: Everybody else who’s not like him. Look at his show! What does he surround himself with?

Now y’all know we have issues with both the Daily Show and the Colbert Report.

See these for background:

A Thin Line Between Stereotype and Satire: The Daily Show’s “Asian Correspondent” Olivia Munn
Dear Olivia Munn
The Daily Show Introduces Us to Gitmo
Open Thread: Cornel West on Stephen Colbert – Respect or Mockery?

One of the more distressing points about the type of comedy that Colbert and Stewart perform is that the boundaries blur so often between what they are lampooning and what they are reinforcing. I remember watching an episode of the Daily Show where Stewart made a crack about his writer’s room being white and male. The joke played on the realities of the television industry. However, what is always interesting to me is how often Stewart will discuss things that he has the power to change. I’m sure Jon Stewart can’t wave a magic wand and fix all the diversity issues in the media at large – but I’m sure he can make a difference on his own show.

But here’s where things get sticky:

PD: But listen he picks on Jews all the time, he’s a Jew. He focuses on them and I think he overcompensates to some extent.

[...]

RS: I think Jon’s show is essentially prejudicial. I think that Jon’s show is…

PD: Against who?

RS: Against anybody who doesn’t agree to his point of view, which is very much a white liberal establishment point of view. He cant relate to a guy like me. He can’t relate to a guy who’s dad worked all his life. He can’t relate to somebody who grew up poor. [...]

Here is where the Wrap transcript ends, but the quote that’s been all over the news is this one:

Very powerless people… [snickers] He’s such a minority, I mean, you know [sarcastically]… Please, what are you kidding? … I’m telling you that everybody who runs CNN is a lot like Stewart, and a lot of people who run all the other networks are a lot like Stewart, and to imply that somehow they — the people in this country who are Jewish — are an oppressed minority? Yeah. [sarcastically]

Now, there’s an interesting assumption put forth here: that class privilege negates racial or ethnic struggle. Which it does not. And it’s one of those tropes used as an internal division, which I’ve seen employed against both Jews and Asians – the fact that many members of the group have found some measure of wealth and success means that they no longer face oppression.

The way in which Sanchez’s comment can be read is two fold: he could be talking about white people like Stewart, or he could be talking about Jewish people like Stewart.

The way the comment is interpreted has generally been toward the Jewish leaning – a play upon an old stereotype that Jewish people run the media.

Back in 1996, FAIR (Fairness and Accuracy in Reporting) debunked the myth in a report:

All such diatribe plays up your Eisners and your Sulzbergers–and plays down many other names: Jack Welch and Michael H. Jordan, CEOs, respectively, of GE (NBC) and Westinghouse (CBS); Rupert Murdoch (who owns 20th Century Fox); John Malone, CEO of TCI, the nation’s largest cable company; maverick globalist Ted Turner; and many more. Also tuned out are such goyische giants as Hearst Communications, Times Mirror, the Chicago Tribune’s empire, Reader’s Digest Inc.–and the Shintoist directorship of Sony (which owns Columbia Studios and Tri-Star Pictures).

The far-right media “critique” also ignores the role of major shareholders: buccaneers like Warren Buffett (Disney’s largest investor); cyberlord Bill Gates (who owns a big piece of Dreamworks and MSNBC); Gordon Crawford, who manages the media holdings for the secretive Capital Group (which owns a chunk of every major player).

But more important, the far-right attack ignores the crucial point about today’s media: Increasingly, their owners are publicly traded multinational corporations, chiefly answerable to banks, insurance companies and other institutional investors–and to advertisers, who are almost always the key source of revenue. Thus guided, corporate capitalism runs the show with no concern for any race or faith or for anything but profits.

But this meme will not die. Wikipedia, which is great for cross referencing things, provides a very useful current list of American mass media owners. Much national and international media is owned and controlled by just 47 people, many of whom share family lineage, making the numbers much smaller. On that list, four or so are identified as Jewish. Now, some will point out that this list includes only owners, not CEOs and decision makers. However, CEOs can be ousted fairly easily, but it takes a long while for a company to change hands.

However, Jon Stewart’s whiteness is a different type of issue. This is complicated by him holding both a white and Jewish identity. Stewart recalls being targeted because of his identity as a young man:

Lawrenceville wasn’t exactly a hotbed of Jewish life. Jon attended a yeshiva kindergarten in nearby Trenton, then joined his brother at the local public school. Stewart has recalled being punched in seventh grade and taunted as “Leibotits” and “Leiboshits.” “I didn’t grow up in Warsaw, but it’s not like it wasn’t duly noted by my peers that’s who I was—there were some minor slurs,” he said in a 2002 interview with The New Yorker’s Tad Friend.

Stewart’s comedic streak and verbal agility was evident at an early age. “I was very little, so being funny helped me have big friends,” Stewart explained in a 1994 People interview.

One would think that the two men would find some common ground, in being persecuted for their identities alone. Sanchez also referenced current rejection by other anchors and feeling like everyone was mocking him. And he is correct. Alex Parnee, over at Salon, digs up a video of Anderson Cooper making fun of Sanchez when he elected to be tasered on television. (The video appears to be down – it’s one where Anderson Cooper and a guest are discussing the tasering of a college student, and then cut to the Sanchez clip, saying “I could watch that all day.) Sanchez also appears to have little respect among his contemporaries – he is often labeled a dumb jock, and this acerbic take down from Parnee demonstrates the environment:

Is it really anti-Semitic to resent Jews for being so much smarter than you? Well, yes. But Rick Sanchez is a man who says things without thinking — like Blitzer, he is a professional sayer-of-words, not understander-of-words — and I think his heart is filled less with hate than with intense resentment and nagging inadequacy. He is a dumb, shouty guy who has gone about as far in life as a dumb, shouty guy can get, through sheer, admirable hard work — ever since he parlayed a football scholarship into a communications degree — but the nerds, they’re still laughing at him.

And with good reason! The man should not be an anchor. I mean, here’s Rick yesterday, calling “bullying” — bullying! — “a psycho-babble, media term that we’ve made up.” Thinking Rick Sanchez is a moron isn’t even a partisan issue: Glenn Beck called him the dumbest man on television in August. [...]

Jon Stewart, I can safely say, is prejudiced against people like Rick Sanchez, where “people like Rick Sanchez” means not “Hispanics,” but rather “complete idiots.”

Now, Rick Sanchez appears to be a lot of things. I haven’t watched his show so I am not fully familiar with him as an anchor, but there appear to be lots of gaffes in his career. There also appear to be some moments where Sanchez is trying to advance the conversation, particularly when Sanchez challenges Lou Dobbs. It is hard to parse out how Sanchez navigates his own identity, his self-identification, and his role on air. Even in the Dobbs clip, he appears to be going back and forth, between the presentation he needs to assimilate into mainstream society and wanting to represent for those at the margins. And it is hard to determine (from the viewer’s seat) how much prejudice Sanchez dealt with behind the scenes, and how that might have impacted how he saw all the jokes at his expense.

Still, despite the name adjustment, vocal training, and personal presentation, Ricky Sanchez still managed to be marked firmly as “other.” And Jon Stewart, since he’s white (enough, for now), managed to gain some access to the club. Now, this isn’t to be mistaken with full access – but Stewart is considered less of an outsider than Sanchez, which made him a convenient target.

It reminds me of a piece a friend sent me. After a discussion about anti-racist movements and anti-Semitic, and the peculiar positing of passing and whiteness, my friend mailed me a copy of a ten-year old New Yorker article called “The Other and the Almost the Same.” In the piece, Paul Bergman lays out a theory for black-Jewish prejudice and mistrust, believing that the similarities between the two groups lead to an aggravation of differences:

One of Freud’s earliest French translators was a man named Jankelevitch, whose son, Vladimir, became a hero in the French Resistance during the Second World War, then went on to a professor’s career at the Sorbonne, where he was much loved by his students for his white mane and his philosophy of music. And when Vladimir Jankelevitch died, in 1985, he left behind for posthumous publication some Q. & A. interviews, which caused a shock. The interviews were about courage and hatred. The old professor reminisced about the war against the Nazis. He remembered Jean-Paul Sartre and other famous thinkers from his own generation in France, and he said that in the face of Nazism those very great philosophers had been malingerers and opportunists and had afterward made a career of their undeserved reputation for bravery. He recalled some anti-Semitism within the Resistance, which was a bitter memory for a Jew like him. He forgave nothing. He despaired. In a thousand years, he predicted, people would still be muttering “Dirty Jew.” He offered a few philosophical observations, vaguely psychoanalytic in style, as befitted his father’s son. He wondered why certain populations feel so strongly about one another. Why so much irrational passion, nationality against nationality? And he proposed an explanation.

Hatred between peoples comes in two varieties, he said. Racism–this is a truism–is a hatred you might feel for people who are different from you: for “the other.” But the second kind of hatred is something you might feel for people who, compared with you, are neither “other” nor “brother.” It is hatred for “the almost the same.” In Jankelevitch’s theory, relations with the other tend to be chilly–which doesn’t make the hatred any less murderous, given the wrong circumstances. But relations between people who are almost the same tend to be highly charged. He invoked a passage in “Moses and Monotheism” in which Freud observes that “racial intolerance finds stronger expression, strange to say, in regard to small differences than to fundamental ones.”

Jankelevitch pointed to the Dutch and the Belgians, who have everything in common and hate each other zealously–at least, sometimes they do. If the old professor had lived a few more years, he would have certainly pointed to the mass insanity in the former Yugoslavia, where the warring groups resemble one another so closely that most if us in the world beyone the Balkans cannot detect any differences at all. Why do tensions between people who are almost the same heat up into uncontrollable hatred? It is a matter of self-preservation.

To the person whose resemblance to you is close, yet who is not really your double, you might easily end up saying, “You are almost like me. The similarity between us is so plain that in the eyes of the world you are my brother. But, to speak honestly, you are not my brother. My identity, in relation to you, consists precisely of the ways in which I am different from you. Yet the more you resemble me the harder it is for anyone to see those crucial differences. Our resemblance threatens to obliterate everything that is special about me. So you are my false brother. I have no alternative but to hate you, because by working up a rage against you I am defending everything that is unique about me.”

Since emotional relations fall under the star of irrationality, people who are almost the same might flip-flop into loving one another, bedazzled by their wonderful point of commonality. Or they might sink into confusion about the intensity of their feelings. “When you are in a state of passion, you don’t know if you love or if you hate, like spouses who can neither live together nor live apart,” Jankelevitch said.

Does anything in that analysis apply to the predicament of blacks and Jews in America? Not on the face of things. The American Jews and the African-Americans have never looked or sounded alike, and the difference in economic conditions has become more pronounced since the days of bedbug-Jewish-tenement poverty. As for the shared history of having someone’s boot press on their vulnerable necks, this experience has taken such different forms for blacks and for Jews as to be barely comparable. Any important element of Jewish-and-black almost the sameness, if it existed at all, would have to lie in the zone of the invisible, which is to say the psychological, where all is murk.

The whole piece is worth a read. While there are a lot of parts that I didn’t agree with, and Bergman is missing some major insights that ultimately damage his argument, the central idea – that groups that are experiencing similar oppression splinter from each other to preserve themselves – makes a lot of sense. And when racial hierarchies come into the mix, particularly with those complicated color, the results can be explosive.

So on Friday, Rick Sanchez exploded. And lashed out. But in all of his rage, it appears that he failed to see the much larger picture. And instead of drawing bridges and support for his experiences, he created new divisions and wrecked his career.

But even more than that, the outburst allowed all the truth in his statement to become buried by the weight of one prejudicial statement. And it allowed for those who are truly in power to laugh, check the ratings, and continue on with the status quo.

I meant to write this post a long time ago – kept saying that I would – but it just didn’t happen, finally fell on the back-burner. Recently, however, I read another post (here) that addressed this topic, but in a manner that felt – to me – to retain the very same “Us vs. Them” theme that’s gotten us here in the first place. The angle taken, the examples given, some of the comments, etc. allow for a dangerous misunderstanding to continue (not the author’s intention, but nonetheless . . .). So I felt it’s time. Let’s do this.

A while back, I was talking to a friend of mine (a black female, which is relevant) – we’ll call her “W.” She’s telling me about this guy she ran into at some store; this Vietnamese guy (“or Chinese or Korean or something”) comes over and starts chatting her up, hitting on her, trying to get her number and all that. She’s not feeling it. She gets irritated on a number of levels. But her primary annoyance is that she feels like he’s just messing with her, so she ends up telling him “give me a break, you don’t date black women,” and (tamely) telling him about how racist Asian guys are.

She finishes her story, looks at me, and, laughing, says “can you believe that?”

I give a one-word response. “Yes.”

But my mind was reeling – because there was so much going on in this one interaction (sort of two interactions, including the re-telling) that just sum up the state of oppression-related affairs in the U.S. First, there’s a (black) woman getting hit on by some random guy, which always carries a tinge of objectification, dominance, etc. In this case, it’s an Asian guy – so we’re bringing together two notoriously “undesirable” race/gender combinations in this country. Then there’s her confusion over the exact ethnicity of this Asian dude. Then there’s her belief (based on real past experience) that he’s not really interested in dating her; that he’s more or less mocking her, because – as an Asian man – he’s probably crazy-racist against black people. And, finally, the beauty of it all – she’s casually relating this story to me, her friend – an Asian (okay, mixed-Asian) male.

And it all made perfect sense to me. Because, you see, I happen to be a sort of connoisseur of the black-Asian interracial experience, and everything that happened in that story follows the confusing, tense narrative of a relationship that has been being shaped for the last couple-hundred (maybe far more) years. It’s a long story – with a lot of loops and twists – but it’s one worth reading, so I hope y’all follow me to the end.

Prologue – “Setting it Straight” (aka “Prepare to Have Your Mind Blown”)

We “all know” that there’s this big rivalry between Asian and black folks. The “opposites” of the PoC spectrum, there just is no bridging the divide. I’ve heard it a million times (from both sides).

And so the look of shock on the faces of this one particular group of Asian folks I was with shouldn’t have surprised me when I asked what should have been a stupid question: “You all realize that there are black Asian people, right?”

But, you see – that’s what this post is about. In spite of all the claimed “differences” between the two groups, there are black Asian people. There are Asian black people. There are actually quite a lot of them. When I talk about my mixed background with my students, it never fails to bring a grin to my face (and give me hope) at how many of my “black” students tell me that they have Asian blood, as well. Filipino and black mixes are the most common, but there are so many other mixed-race black/Asian people out there. Because, get this – the communities are entwined.

Problem is, we’ve been conditioned for so long to buy into the whole concept of the division between the two, that we can’t even see it. No matter what I say here, no matter the evidence out in the world, in the end you’re all still going to believe that these communities are not connected because the messaging has been so strong in the other direction. Black folks with Asian blood will just call themselves “black,” and nobody ever knows otherwise, because they never think to ask (or even consider the possibility). Asian folks won’t reach out to Asian-blacks because of the same reasons. They blame each other, call each other out, and love to throw stereotypes at each other. Each group desperately clasps to racist notions to make sense of a frustrating world where they’re oppressed by racist notions.

One more situation where the epic construct of racism in this country prevails because of its genius simplicity. So huge. So obvious. We’re in the same boat. Working together would be a giant step in actually solving both of our problems. But the system’s power is in its knowledge of history, and employing the dividing tactic so brilliantly.

But I, for one, am tired of hearing (from both sides) about how different the black and Asian communities are, culturally-speaking. The stereotypes and media-based prejudices fall out differently – yes. But damnit – I lived in Tanzania (in East Africa). I currently live in China (in East Asia). I’ve lived in the SF Bay, California, Michigan, and Portland, Oregon (in central North America). I’ve run with all-Asian groups, all-black groups, all the mixes in between. I’ve mentored African refugees, Asian-American immigrants, and “at-risk” youth of both shades. There’s no epic, insurmountable divide in history and culture – it’s the opposite, actually. So often, I find myself having pieces of black (African and African-American) culture slap me in the face as being so eerily similar to Chinese (and other Asian) cultural practices. So many connections, right in front of our eyes. Yet most people are too damn lazy to see it – because accepting media-inflicted messaging is so much easier.

Because the truth is hard to dig up. It’s hard to see if you’re used to having your eyes closed and opened for you by outside teachers, mentors, newscasters, etc. It takes time. It takes some real thought.

Well – today’s your lucky day – because I’m going to give you a crash-course in history and explain to you the unbreakable ties between black and Asian folks (and others) in the United States of America. Read it, digest it – but don’t just take my word for it. When it’s all said and done, feel free to think for yourself and dig up your own truth, as well.

Part I, “Jews and the Creation of the Buffer Class”

Historically, it begins with the Jewish people and the beginnings of their persecution. A strange way to begin a story about Blacks and Asians, yeah? But stay with me – everything’s connected.

We’re in Europe, around the time of the first Crusades, early 1000s A.D. (*1) Christian scripture has been largely standardized at this point, and Jews are now – almost universally – determined to be a people rejected by God. Leaders of the European nation-states issue decrees and laws that effectively prevent Jews from being fully integrated into Christian community. However, various Christian tenets leave gaps open – jobs that “good” Christians should mostly avoid – and, out of a lack of other options, the Jewish people fill those gaps. They start handling the money – they become merchants, bankers, accountants. Would they like to hold other jobs, make their livelihoods in other ways? Sure. But they can’t – it’s not allowed. And they have families to feed.

So they get good at what they do. They make it work. And now, there are actually Jews who – in spite of oppression against them – are doing quite well for themselves. Other folks look on, and don’t like what they see. “They” shouldn’t have that kind of money. Something fishy must be going on.

Bring on the First Crusade. As the Christians invade the Holy Land, Jews shift over from “tolerated” to becoming “the enemy” (along with Muslims, of course). Suddenly, oppressive laws and decrees change to outright violence. The “huddled masses” of Christian have-nots are spurred on by the haves to take it from the Jews. Massacres. Pogroms. It has all begun.

More options are taken away, job-wise. The only “gap” left is that of “money-lender,” and so the Jews take on that role. This is convenient for the ruling classes, of course, because it’s easy to deflect class-rage aimed at themselves (the true perpetrators of this inequality) by having the oppressed target the people who are seen to be directly handing out the money (and asking for it back, as well).

This method of keeping the poor and oppressed from demanding real change by encouraging them to take out frustrations on a “buffer class” works so well, European leaders more or less make it state policy. (*2) Stereotype development as public policy has begun.

Part II, “the Age of Imperialism”

Hop-skip ahead to the so-called “Age of Imperialism” (as if it’s one that ended): the UK (and other countries, but we’re focusing on Britain here) has spread its grip over the world, with colonies in Africa, Asia, and the Americas. As they murder and subjugate the more-pigmented peoples of the world, they butt up against a little problem – the more they devastate and debase the peoples they’ve conquered (and now – enslaved), the more likely it is that those people are going to someday snap and realize that there are just too many of them, and too little British, to let this continue. How to blunt that rage and frustration?

They look to the Jews and their historic use as the Buffer Class. Of course, they’ve effectively kept the Jewish population down through this technique, so there just aren’t enough alive to spread around the world like they need. So they look abroad (to their conquered peoples) and decide to import a new Buffer Class: the East Indians. Brilliant.

Suddenly, all over the British colonies East Indian folks are running little shops, small businesses. In the day-to-day, it’s the East-Indians that subjugated peoples (never mind that the East Indian people are also subjugated) see taking their money. Living a little bit better than themselves. Dots are connected (with the subtle support of the colonizers), so that now – when violence erupts – it’s mostly aimed at the new Indian buffer class, and the colonizers hold onto the spoils for a little longer.

In Africa, especially, it falls out like this: Stereotypes are created. Enforced. Inequality is demonstrated and questioned. Mistrust goes both ways (the Indians don’t trust the Africans because they’ve been attacked by them, the Africans don’t trust the Indians because they appear to be in all snug with the colonizers and are taking African money). All the while, the British are laughing their asses off and crushing both peoples under their heels.

“Independence” is eventually attained, but it’s too late. The damage has been done. To this day, tension and mistrust continues between the Indian “buffer class” and African peoples. In fact, this exact same racial scenario (between those of Asian descent and those of African descent) remains strong on a new continent.

Part III, “A Brave New World”

Okay. So now we’re ready to move over to the Americas – the “New World.” The U.S. has gained its “independence,” and the British monarchy no longer holds sway. But alas – their influence is most sorely felt.

In their zeal to achieve “Manifest Destiny,” the government has murdered too many indigenous Americans. They wanted to use them as their slaves to handle all the manual labor, but there just aren’t enough of them left (can you see a theme developing)? So what are these barbarians to do? Well, they look to the past as their guide and they find a solution – they import their slave labor from elsewhere (in this case, Africa). Great. Plantation life can carry on as planned and “equality and justice for all” can continue for the rich white men who coined that phrase.

Absolute tragedy and mental scarification of an entire race of people ensues. More stereotypes are developed and enforced that carry their weight into the present day.

Eventually, the Civil War erupts, and black slaves become “free.”

But that creates a problem – because how is the U.S. going to continue its rapid development without all that free (the only kind of “free” that really matters in a society like ours) labor it was relying on back in the day? And, suddenly, with “freedom,” these black Americans suddenly want to have equal rights? Get paid real wages? Be counted as real citizens? Hell no. But how can the top keep ravaging these “free” black folks without some heavy repercussions on down the line?

Once again, the dual-pronged solution is imported from abroad: immigrant labor. In this case, largely Chinese immigrant labor (among other Asian ethnicities as time rolls on). See – immigrants are a great solution because they aren’t citizens. They have no idea what to expect out here. Hell – they don’t even really speak the language. So you can do all sorts of evil sh– to them without them ever having the ability to do something about it – because you can always threaten to send them back, send their family back, randomly imprison them, kill them . . . the sky’s the limit. (*3)

Even better – you’ve now got that buffer class you needed to keep the “free” black folks from fully blaming those who deserve the blame. (*4) Because – don’t misunderstand – black folks are still on the bottom around here. And the best way to keep that going is to deflect their frustrations – so once again, the Buffer Class plays its role. (*5) With just a tiny bit of rhetoric, the ex-enslavers get black folks pissed at the Asian folks living in more or less the same squalid conditions as themselves, so the real oppressors can focus on more important matters – like rolling in money, for example.

Due to various lack of opportunities, Asian folks start getting pushed into certain roles (ala the Jews in Europe). The power-structure encourages Asian-black interracial tensions. Asian folks are slapped around but given a few bones to seem a step “above” black folks so, from the bottom, Asian people seem to be all cozy with “the Man;” while Asian people are encouraged to look down on black people and do all they can to exaggerate their “difference” (so as not to give light to the truth – that we’re all getting f—ed).

Stereotypes are developed. Enforced. Etc.

Part IV, “The Common Era”

And now here we are: here. Now.

Black folks are still a subjugated people in the States. Asian folks are still playing the role of the buffer class/model minority – subtly pushed into filling gaps that those at the top don’t want to be in – hence, all these Asian shopkeepers in predominantly-black neighborhoods. Young black folks are rightfully frustrated and angry about their place in this country. Yet where is that rage going to go? Not to the top, of course – because you’ve got these Asian folks directly taking their money right there in front of them. Do the math. (*6)

On the flip – Asian folks living in these neighborhoods are trained to mistrust the very black folks they are relying on for a livelihood. The messaging isn’t accidental. So you get Asian shopkeepers stereotyping black folks, to the point of murdering them in perceived “self-defense.” (*7)

On a less-dramatic level, you have ridiculous tensions between various Asian and Black communities throughout the U.S. You get recent spates of violence in schools. In communities at large. And the media has a field day with it all – because misdirection is the best way to keep oppressed people from doing anything constructive about it.

Because we have this tendency to throw ourselves into this one, taking sides, getting right into the middle of it. Black folks (rightfully) reference the massive color-based racism of many traditional Asian communities. Asian folks (factually) cite instances of black folks targeting Asians. You’ve got the two “least-desirable” romantic partners – Asian males and black females – lamenting their lack of love then each explaining why they “just aren’t interested” in dating the other. It’s too personal. So frustrating. Somebody needs to bear the brunt of this frustration . . .

Oppression Olympics. “We’ve got it worse than you because . . .” “You’re just as racist as white people because . . . ” “I’m not racist, just telling it like it is . . .”

Bla, bla, bla – back-and-forth, forth-and-back until both sides just prove each other right and reinforce stereotypes over and over again. So caught up in how this other group of oppressed peoples is so dangerous, so racist, so different. Meanwhile, “They” are laughing their asses off because these groups are so similar that “They” can use the same simple tactics to oppress both of them. Oppressed people are just so easy to manipulate . . .

Part V, “Open Your Eyes”

So I’ll tell you what - y’all need to just back the f— up and get some perspective for a second. Because, by being so caught up in the middle of the storm, we’re missing some huge, glaring points that are just so incredibly obvious when we look at the bigger picture (which is, of course, exactly as the top wants it).

If there’s all this tension between the two communities; if there are all these incidents where they clash – in schools, communities, corner stores, etc. . . . If that’s the case, what’s one very obvious reason that that is possible? Well, because the two communities are entwined. Asian and black folks live in the same neighborhoods. They’re going to the same schools. Which means that – well, they’re actually going to be facing a lot of the same challenges. And these similar challenges are going to create a lot of the same frustrations. These frustrations breed similar pressure, and a similar mis-directed backlash . . . etc.

Historically? Pretty much anywhere there was black slavery, there were soon to be Asian immigrants living within the black communities (and, yes, living as part of those communities). And that has continued to this day.

But that can’t be true, right? Cuz “we all know” that black and Asian people are so completely different. There’s no overlap. Asian people live in the suburbs and black people live in the “inner-city.” Right?

Here’s my answer to that:

F— the stereotypes. F— what “we all know.” Stop watching tv shows and movies for your understanding of race in the U.S. If Asians are really doing so well on a large level – if they’re all really the well-off “model minorities” that “They” all want us to think they are- why are the majority going to the same underfunded, over-crowded, gerrymandered public schools that all the other brown folks are relegated to? If all Asian-Americans are living the “American Dream” and getting rich at the expense of black folks, why do the majority live and work in the same societally-ignored (and avoided) neighborhoods? There are Asian-American gangs, too. Violence. Poverty. Oppression.

On the flip side – if all black people are criminals and die young, how come there are so many old black people living in real houses, far from prisons? If all black folks are uneducated, what’s with all these historically black colleges and universities I’ve heard about? If they’re all poor, how come I keep hearing about all these black politicians being called “elitists”? And isn’t that “Obama” character a perfect example of a “Model Minority”? There are tons of black folks who are doing just fine. Who have never been involved in violence or any sort of crime. Black kids raised by two parents. Going to good schools. College. Yuppies. Republicans.

You getting me? In both cases, these communities are entwined. Sharing challenges and struggles – and successes.

But, in spite of that, I still have to ask stupid questions like – how can Asian people be all pissed off about false stereotypes and depictions of Asians in the media and then completely buy into stereotypes about black people peddled by the exact same media? How can you read only the articles about black criminals or violence (in relation to Asian folks) and feel satisfied that you actually know anything about what’s really going on? Asian-American organizations completely dismiss or ignore the plight of black folks in this country – and then we get mad that black organizations don’t support us?! Flip all those statements (to regard black folks with Asians), and it’s all the same damn thing. Have we all gone mad?

It’s a crazy, frustrating situation – where there’s so much reason to work together and fight against shared problems, but all this faulty history, all this brainwashing, all this careful manipulation by the dominant classes turns us into self-defeating hypocrites.

And yet . . . and yet . . .

There’s hope. Things can change. It will take a lot of work and a lot of understanding how the system created this infighting for us. But there is hope.

Which brings us all the way back to the story that began it all: “W” and her “Vietnamese” suitor. When you first read it, you probably thought I cited it as an example of the divide between black and Asian. The misunderstandings. The unavoidable conflict. How the two can “never get along.” An Asian guy hitting on a black woman, and racism is assumed . . .

But that actually wasn’t it. Because that story was one of hope. It’s an illustration of how the divide just really isn’t that big. Because, in spite of all those assumptions and defenses, etc. revealed in that story, “W” was sharing it with me, her friend – an Asian guy. At the time, her first and only Asian friend. The very same Asian friend that came over and celebrated Thanksgiving with her and her family. Needless to say, I was the first Asian guy to share a special occasion with her family like that. Of course, I was the only non-black person there. And I’ve never felt more welcome.

Because we’re friends. And with friends, you’re able to get over the B.S. weight of stereotypes and other assumptions and go with what the person is actually like. What they actually know, do, etc. You give each other a real chance, instead of letting some self-interested third-party tell you who the other person is.

So all of you – take a step back. Breathe deep. Stop buying into the nonsense and open up your minds the same way you ask others to about you. Black AND Asian. And Jewish, even. We’re all connected. More so than we’ll ever even know.

And that doesn’t mean that individuals – on both sides – aren’t going to have racist notions. It doesn’t mean that communities – acting in concert- aren’t going to further the misunderstandings. What it means is that if you really want to represent, then represent – your own community AND oppressed peoples as a whole – and give yourself and others a big-picture view. It’s going to take work – but it’s far from impossible. Stop being lazy and only touching the surface. Do something real.

Stand up. Head up. Fist up.
Use your free hand to shake hands with the causes across the way,
And then – and only then – can you honestly say:
“I want to get free.”

(*1) I use the “A.D.” label most intentionally here.

(*2) And be damned-sure that Hitler was taking notes on that one.

(*3) That’s another standard-play that’s been in the Inequality Rulebook for centuries.

(*4) Do I really have to point out that this continues today?

(*5) At this point, you should realize that the “Buffer Class” and “Model Minority” go hand-in-hand.

(*6) It’s an indication of how the media plays into this feedback loop that I don’t need to cite anything here for y’all to know exactly what I’m talking about.

(*7) Latasha Harlins being the most well-known example.

(*8) If you’re wondering at the lack of citations for this article – I keep asking y’all to not be lazy and do the work yourselves (not even just taking my word for it), and giving you citations wouldn’t accomplish that. Because then you’ll just stick to that. So put some work in. Find your own answers (but look on both sides and in between), and then hit me up with your comments, questions and concerns: “choptensils AT gmail DOT com”.

In order to keep the peace around here, we have a policy against the Oppression Olympics:

Let’s avoid oppression olympics please. I’m not saying it’s never something to be discussed, but generally speaking, bickering over who has it worse off, or who’s more racist, is really kind of useless.

The reason why this policy is in place is simple: we are trying to organize outside of the traditional structures that separate us by race and ethnicity. This process is difficult. It is a constant negotiation of boundaries, an ongoing discussion about who we are and where we fit in race conversation, and requires a lot of weeding out of people who display that they could care less about other races/ethnicities.

However, the concept of Oppression Olympics is flawed. As I explored in an older post “Re-examining the Phrase ‘Oppression Olympics‘:”

Now here’s an example [scholar Andrea Smith sites in her chapter about Heteropatriarchy and the Three Pillars of White Supremacy] that jumped out at me the most (and I think comes closer to what Black Canseco was trying to get at in the comments):

Our organizing can also reflect anti-Black racism. Recently, with the outgrowth of “multiculturalism” there have been calls to “go beyond the black/white binary” and include other communities of color in our analysis. First, it replaces an analysis of white supremacy with a politics of multicultural representation; if we just include more people, then our practice will be less racist. Not true. This model does not address the nuanced structure of white supremacy, such as through these distinct logics of slavery, genocide, and Orientalism. Second, it obscures the centrality of the slavery logic in the system of white supremacy, which is based on a black/white binary. The black/white binary is not the only binary which characterizes white supremacy, but it is still a central one that we cannot “go beyond” in our racial justice organizing efforts.

If we do not look at how the logic of slaveability inflects our society and our thinking, it will be evident in our work as well. For example, other communities of color often appropriate the cultural work and organizing strategies of African American civil rights or Black Power movements without corresponding assumptions that we should also be in solidarity with Black communities. We assume that this work is the common “property” of all oppressed groups, and we can appropriate it without being accountable.

Damn right. As we get deeper and deeper into the feminism debates, I notice a couple of bloggers who do espouse these anti-black sentiments while using the civil rights movement as a foundation to stand on. Particularly, those bloggers who continually refer to “the blacks” or “the black feminists” and the power of our numbers, as if every time we complain, something is granted and we never worked to be recognized or acknowledged in mainstream feminism. These bloggers are not white. But they are not black either. And it would be foolish to think that if someone is non-white, then they must be allied with black women, or a larger movement that advocates for the rights of women of color.

But that’s a discussion for another time.

After looking at some of the discussions about Black-Asian racism dynamics on Reappropriate, some conversations I’ve had with Thea, discussions of South Philadelphia High School, and some of our long standing conversations about inter-racial issues, looks like the time for conversation is now.

A while back, around the time Thea wrote the 100% Cablinasian post, we had a long, long conversation* about the contexts involved with POC organizing, perceptions of mixed race identity, and the idea of edging into whiteness. This conversation was in both frustrating and illuminating – frustrating because race is a social construct, and the way people experience race and racism constantly shifts and renegotiates itself. This means that a black woman from a low income background, born and raised in an urban area in the United States will come to very different conclusions than a mixed race Asian and white woman who lived in Canada and Singapore and dealt with those racial dynamics. But it is also illuminating because in order to organize together, we need to understand where everyone is coming from.

Over the course of the conversation, there was one sticking point we kept returning to, time and time again: the white/black dynamic. (Please note, this is a quick chop of the conversation – the actual exchange is around 40 pages, so a lot of the context is missing.)

Latoya:

Often, people run into trouble [at Racialicious] because, as POCs, we generally focus on our battles versus whiteness. We tend to assume that everyone else is struggling in the same way, and then came to the same conclusion. But that isn’t the case. You felt silenced by the community here, but a lot of what I saw was the articulation of pain – I edit this site, so I force myself not to look at everything through a black lens. But a lot of African-Americans do feel unjustly shit upon, especially by other minorities. We’re always the bogeyman or the scapegoat, and that’s why many blacks will say that racial issues aren’t so much between whites and everyone else, but blacks and nonblacks.

Thea:

…In what ways do black folks feels shit on by other minorities? Do you think that black folks are actually shit upon [by other communities of colour], or do you think it is misplaced anger? …

I had a long convo with my friend L about this last week, where he said that East Asian students always gravitate towards white students, whereas African American students will usually stick together. The more we talked about it, the more I realised that he thought East Asian students do that because they aspire to whiteness, and because they can – economic privilege or light skin privilege allows them to do so. I was surprised to realise that he didn’t get it – East Asian students gravitate towards white students as a means of protection from the particular kind of racism that East Asians experience; where they are always made to feel as if they are from somewhere else. It’s not simply about idealising whiteness. Like how East Asians will often rename themselves with “white names”, in contrast with the fact that some African Americans have proudly “black” names. These two different and opposite behaviours are BOTH responses to racism.

Latoya:

In what ways do black folks feels shit on by other minorities? Do you think that black folks are actually shit upon, or do you think it is misplaced anger?

Nothing about it is misplaced.  African Americans are often maligned by other minorities, in the same way we are maligned by whites.  But, because you can gain a toehold in white society by dissing blacks, other minority groups (and some mixed race people) have embraced that tactic of using the backs of blacks to get their footing elsewhere.  But hey, don’t take my word on it – listen to Andrea Smith:

Our organizing can also reflect anti-Black racism. Recently, with the outgrowth of “multiculturalism” there have been calls to “go beyond the black/white binary” and include other communities of color in our analysis. First, it replaces an analysis of white supremacy with a politics of multicultural representation; if we just include more people, then our practice will be less racist. Not true. This model does not address the nuanced structure of white supremacy, such as through these distinct logics of slavery, genocide, and Orientalism. Second, it obscures the centrality of the slavery logic in the system of white supremacy, which is based on a black/white binary. The black/white binary is not the only binary which characterizes white supremacy, but it is still a central one that we cannot “go beyond” in our racial justice organizing efforts.

If we do not look at how the logic of slaveability inflects our society and our thinking, it will be evident in our work as well. For example, other communities of color often appropriate the cultural work and organizing strategies of African American civil rights or Black Power movements without corresponding assumptions that we should also be in solidarity with Black communities. We assume that this work is the common “property” of all oppressed groups, and we can appropriate it without being accountable.

Often, it feels as though people want to take on everything but the burden when it comes to African American narratives – and it disturbs me how many of our allies cannot see that to be black is to be constantly faced with rejection.  A larger system of white supremacy has made it advantageous to distance oneself from blackness.

The more we talked about it, the more I realised that he thought East Asian students do that because they aspire to whiteness, and because they can – economic privilege or light skin privilege allows them to do so. I was surprised to realise that he didn’t get it – East Asian students gravitate towards white students as a means of protection from the particular kind of racism that East Asians experience; where they are always made to feel as if they are from somewhere else.  It’s not simply about idealising whiteness.

But the obvious question there is why do you gravitate toward whiteness? Blacks are also American – are we not good enough?  That inclination, to choose to be more white to fit in, is in itself a rejection of blackness. By and large, African Americans do not have that option – no matter how much we choose to assimilate, we will still be seen as subpar.  Why would you give yourself a white name, when whites have discriminated against Asians on a systemic level since shortly after the founding of this county, and when our movements aligned and allied with each other over the years?  Why would you accept a dominant paradigm that privileges whiteness – and then buy into it as an escape from the racism you face? Whiteness is not a retreat for blacks and never will be.  That’s why African Americans have proudly black names – every moment we’ve been in this country has been dedicated to proving our inferiority. That is a function of whiteness.  And by opting into that system, you’re oppressing us by confirming, once again, that given the choice between allying with blackness or assimilating into whiteness, whiteness is preferable.  Black is less desireable.

Thea:

…My first instinct is to disagree with you that when Asians gravitate towards whiteness, they are rejecting blackness. I have to think on that. The reason I disagree is because Asians gravitate towards whiteness in order to get away from POCness. And yes, like you said, this is because they can. But it’s about rejecting association with absolutely anything that is racially marked, in order to protect themselves. In the process do East Asians through black folks under the bus? Quite definitely.  But what Asians have as their focus is whiteness, and nothing else. Is that an implicit rejection of blackness? Sure. But it’s also a rejection of East Asianness, indigeneity, Arabness, South Asianness, Latin@ness…

But the obvious question there is why do you gravitate toward whiteness?

Not sure if you meant “you” as in “one” or “Thea,” but when I talk about East Asians, I’m not talking about myself. I don’t identify with the East Asian American narrative really, or even the hapa narrative; it’s not one I can take on. Part of my own experience growing up was about being told over and over that I was definitely not Chinese. I know a lot about the East Asian American experience, but I’m not racialised in the same way that East Asian Americans are. This has to do with the fact that people often can’t place me, but also to do with how I dress and where I live. What I identify most with are mixed race people of colour.

Most of my adult life has been about resisting whiteness and trying to get people to understand that I have an experience that whiteness repeatedly tries to delete. I obviously gravitate towards people of colour – in the US and at school this usually actually means black folks, and I always do so carefully because I recognise that I shouldn’t assume black folks will immediately see me as an ally. In fact, I feel like I have to wait before I display my cards – I feel like sometimes people look at me and see all the privilege that I have (class privilege, light skin privilege, linguistic privilege, educational privilege…) and it may seem absurd for me to talk about my experience of racism…I just think that people are not going to immediately understand why or how I feel any solidarity with black folks, when I have so much light- skinned privilege. Like it must seem incredibly presumptuous for me to say I feel like there are parallels between my experience and a black person’s experience.

So that’s hard, knowing that when I step into a room, the people that it naturally makes sense for me to want to get close to, see me as an opportunist, or it would never cross their minds that we might have something in common…in their eyes I’m just as much as an ally as a white person.

Latoya:

Yes, groups of color all shit on each other. But those who are not phenotypically black [have the option of] coasting in whiteness. You have that option, though you may reject it, and though it isn’t really an option at all. It’s kind of like what Paula mentioned, about a white friend saying to her “if she had to be anything but white, Asian is the next best thing.” It’s always a second best kind of scenario. However, in order for whiteness to exist, there must something set against it – blackness. This is what I am saying. I’m not saying that black folks cannot be xenophobic or distance themselves. But I am saying our struggles are very, very different, and to be black means you never know what is like to not be racially marked.

And again, it’s not about people benefiting [from the civil rights movement] without crediting – it’s about benefiting without solidarity. The same people pulling out the civil rights blueprint for their cause are often the same people who think blacks complain too much. They say things like “Where is the Asian Jesse Jackson?” as an accusation, without learning that hey, black people don’t want to be seen as a monolith, and that the fact that there are identifiable “black leaders” in the media is the result of decades of constant work, not some magical black media privilege.

You keep coming back to saying rejecting POCness. But I keep explaining that because of how things are set up structurally, blacks cannot do this. Whiteness needs blackness to play against. Where something is exalted, something else has to be reviled. And thanks to the dynamics of slavery (again, read the Andrea Smith piece) this binary was established. White is exalted, black is reviled, anyone that is not either must make a choice. That is why conversations around mixed race identity and passing are so fraught – being black isn’t just a birth thing, it’s a political and social thing, something that is not a choice, something that most of us come to embrace anyway. Multiracial identity is, without a doubt, separate from blackness. But it is not separate from the history of this nation. And early on, some parents in the multiracial movement learned that for agitating for a different categorization of their children, they would receive better treatment. I was attracted to the politics of Carmen and Jen because it seemed to me multiracial POCs claiming the term for themselves – not white parents trying to shield their kids from black taint, as was originally presented. To accept and embrace blackness, our created media, our alternative messages, is for many African Americans, the only refuge from the onslaught of racism. When other races gravitate toward whiteness, they are reinforcing that structure. And its so ingrained, people don’t even fight it…

…So, when other minorities tend to point fingers and say “look at what black people have,” half the time I want to ask if they want to take the attendant, bottom of the totem pole discrimination that comes with that.

Again, it’s fine if people like our media or participate in our movements. The more the merrier. But that issue of solidarity is crucial. If some racist shit goes down, who is standing in support with us, and who skated back into a neutral position between here and whiteness? …

So when someone from the outside makes a comment like “they would never do this to black people” they show they have no idea of the shit black people put up with every day. And when blacks say things like “I wish someone would give me a positive stereotype” it shows they also do not understand how those are just a different kind of shackle. But when the people we are working with still have the option of “gravitating to whiteness” it changes the game. We are automatically working on different levels of engagement.

Thea gave a lecture on Monday at Oberlin about organizing across communities of color and hit me with a question before she left. She wanted to know my thoughts on Ishle Park’s “Sai-I-Gu”, performed here:

Park is talking about violence against Korean Americans and the articulation of pain in the aftermath of the 1992 LA riots, but Thea had questions about one segment in particular:

war of blacks & koreans

then watch us rip

each other to red tendons for scraps

in the city that they abandoned,

a silence white as white silence

and we have no jesse

no martin no malcolm

no al, no eloquent, rapid tongue

just fathers, with thick-tongues

Thea touched on how important this poem is to the Asian American activist community, but wonders, in the context of our earlier conversation, if Park’s words are problematic.

However, I had heard Park’s poem before and enjoyed it. To me, she was articulating pain – and if nothing else, we have the right to our stories and our pain. But what I was getting at in the earlier convos wasn’t articulated by Park’s poem – I instead found the issue articulated over at Jenn’s blog, Reappropriate. In the comments to her post “Inside Black and Asian Tension: Sometimes It is About Racism” a commenter provides a textbook illustration of the sentiment I am discussing:

I find what you wrote interesting but this type of belief among some blacks is very baffling to most asians because asians do not believe we benefit from “minority status”. In fact, asians get NONE of the “luxuries” that most minorities get. We don’t get affirmative action and in today’s society, it is still acceptable to use anti-asian racism as a form of humor. In movies, the so-called “yellow face” is still acceptable whereas “black face” would create a huge scandal. Trust me, asians are stuck behind a rock and a hard place. We are not white, but also not thought of as a “minority” even though we’re the smallest group among the major minority groups. In the discussion of race in america, asians usually don’t even warrant a mention. During elections, when talking heads speak of the black voting bloc, we asians are reminded that we have very little actual political influence. And yet, most asian people simply live their life normally. If by living peacefully among white people is “sucking up to white people”, then so be it. It’s certainly better than sequestering ourselves in enclaves (Chinatown these days have less and less Chinese people come to think of it. And chinese americans rarely live in chinatown beyond the first immigrant generation).

I don’t understand how being recognized should be seen as a luxury, especially when this type of recognition was paid for in blood.

Jenn’s comment section, both on her first post and her follow up, because a safe haven for racists who wanted to trash African Americans. But watching how the conversations devolved reminds me of how difficult it is to have a conversation about things that we do to each other. It’s a necessary conversation that must take place, but often occurs between groups that are not in solidarity. And, as we’ve seen on threads here, quite often, we do not trust each other enough to break down these barriers and approach these conversations with the type of curiosity, respect, and humility to have an actual productive conversation. Can we talk about what’s happening at South Philadelphia High without demonizing the racial groups involved? Can we talk about why so many readers here are completely disinterested in the conversation on Immigration Reform, only getting worked up when Arizona passed SB 1070? Can we talk about why we all expect white people to sit still and listen when we talk about racism they perpetuate, yet shy away from discussing what we perpetuate against each other? Can we talk about why so many of us feel so defensive, because we expect the types of attacks that happened over at Jenn’s place, that we listen so hard for someone to bring the racism that we miss everything else?

Not talking about these issues creates a rift. A festering wound, one that drives us back into our respective communities and allows us to keep ignoring each other. We are othering ourselves, and some people are more than happy to perpetuate that system. It also kind of makes you wonder what all this work is for.

But then I read this thoughtful reflection over at Resist Racism:

I hold people of color to a higher standard. I expect them to be able to understand racism and how it functions. And yet I realize they (and I) were steeped in a racist society. It is work to find our way out.

It is hard sometimes to feel commonality, to feel kinship, especially with people who are not feeling that kinship with you. Yet I am reminded that communities of color share many similarities of experience. I remember that I identify as a person of color and not solely a person of an ethnicity. I see the ways in which prejudice and racism harm all of our communities by supporting a racist hierarchy in which whites are acknowledged to be superior. …

it does not serve a white agenda to tell the complex stories of people of color. Easier to write black people=criminals, Asian people=passive, submissive victims. (White people=not any more racist than anybody else.) But we need to tell these stories rather than having our history written for us. And shaping our communities by our own hands rather than letting others create us in their racist imagination. That means also fighting the racist imagination when it is impressed upon other groups. …

In March, a national immigration rally was held in Washington D.C. I watched extensive news footage; I did not see any of the Asian American groups that attended. Asian Pacific Americans for Progress, the National Korean American Service & Education Consortium and the Japanese American Citizens League are three groups that have been working towards immigration reform. You’d be hard pressed to see any mention of them in the news. Other non-Latino groups attended as well. (I can’t remember their names off the top of my head and I’m too lazy to go look it up.)

But casting immigration as a Latino issue narrows the connection with non-Latino populations. It additionally causes people to believe these issues are only the concern of Latinos.

I remember on a personal level that only black people have ever stopped to help me when I have had car trouble. And I wonder why the racist stereotypes of my society replace my personal reality and create a new one, formed in the white imagination.

A lot of us are invested in these types of questions, these types of conversations. So how do we start talking to each other?

*One day, we will post the larger excerpts of this conversation, because I think it is helpful for people to see how much we have to think and negotiate and renegotiate things internally. Thinking and talking about race is not easy, and even those who are allies will misunderstand each other.

Yesterday, the verdict in the trial involving three New York police officers accused of abusing a young man of color was announced.

Without even knowing the particulars of the case—say, for instance, that one of the police officers in question allegedly abused a man named Michael Mineo with a baton, which led the other two cops to orchestrate a cover-up—you probably know exactly what the jury decided yesterday.

That’s right, all three cops were acquitted of all charges, on the claim that there was not enough evidence to prove that Mineo had actually had a baton shoved inside of him. The news came just days after it was announced that the cops involved in the shooting death of Sean Bell will not receive federal charges.

People of color, especially young Black and Latino men, get shot at and killed by the police at disproportionately high rates. That much seems to be common enough knowledge these days. And the white cops who’ve shot them? They’re all typically acquitted, but that is less common knowledge and more irrefutable fact.

But much of the way we talk about police brutality as a manifestation of racism rests on a classic narrative of individual white aggressors who brutalize Black and Latino men. So what happens when not all of the officers involved are white? In Michael Mineo’s case, the three accused officers were white (Officer Richard Kern) and Latino (Officers Andrew Morales and Alex Cruz).

Check this graf from the NY Times :

And while the attack on Mr. Louima by a white police officer stirred longstanding complaints about the treatment of black men by the police, there was no racial component to Mr. Mineo’s case, since both he and the officers involved are white and Hispanic. It spawned neither major civil rights protests nor sweeping change to training or operations within the ranks.

Cops of color who brutalize other folks of color? It makes it all murky! How is it possible that men of color could perpetuate racism, and upon another man of color?

When you see a headline like “30 Asian Students Attacked,” one would think there would be massive rage.  An outcry about violence in schools.  A discussion of why our kids aren’t safe.  But in the wake of the attacks and continuing coverage by outlets like the Philadelphia Inquirer and the Asian-American blogosphere, the silence surrounding this issue confirms exactly who is considered media worthy in our society and who is not.  The kids being attacked at South Philly High School are part of our community – but where is the concern?  Where is the outcry from mainstream media? Where is the national conversation on…well, I’d take anything at this point.  Race, violence in schools, unsympathetic administrators, class, inter-community tensions, the right to an education in a safe environment – there are thousands of issues to be explored here, and we haven’t heard a peep from most mainstream media outlets.

I’ve been following the news with quite a bit of interest.  This kind of violence doesn’t pop up out of no where - it has to be nurtured.

Chaofei Zheng hiked up his shirt to reveal an angry bruise about four inches long on his right side. He pointed to a matching yellow and purple mark above his left eyebrow.

“I’m scared to go to school,” Zheng, 19, a freshman at South Philadelphia High, said through a translator today.

Zheng is one of several – community organizers say 30 or more – students who were attacked at the school on Thursday, targeted, they say, because they’re Asian.

Racial violence at the school is not new, but students and activists say this week’s attacks are emblematic of a problem that’s not going away.

“There’s a corrosive culture that’s hurting all the kids at the school,” said Helen Gym, a board member of Asian Americans United, who said the district must apologize and “admit that there’s a serious problem at South Philly High School.”

District officials acknowledge the school has problems and racial tensions but say that before the incident, violence was down by 55 percent this school year. Inroads have been made, they say.

Looking at some of the source articles, a clear narrative starts to emerge.  And while it is difficult to opine on a situation that is still unfolding, there are some dominant ideas emerging that need to be scrutinized before any progress can occur.

Racial Tensions Between Groups As Expressions of Power

According to the Philadelphia Inquirer, the racial make up of the school is composed primarily of black students – 70% of the population is identified as black.  A significant minority group is Asian, 18% of the student population, many of whom are recent immigrants or the children of recent immigrants.  The remaining students at the school are white and Latino (with 6% and 5% of the population respectively.)  No white or Latino students appear to have been interviewed.  Student testimony reveals how racial retaliation begins – a slight on one member of a group damns the whole.  So in this case, the students explain:

Wei Chen, who formed the South Philadelphia Chinese-American Student Association last year after a spate of attacks, saw the violence erupt on Thursday, but was not injured. Chen, 18, a senior, said the attackers had no specific problem with their victims.

“They didn’t know each other,” said Chen. “They just see the Asian face, and they punch it.”

Kelly Muth, a Cambodian student, said she witnessed one of the Thursday attacks. And she thinks she knows what triggered the violence.

“Last week, a group of Vietnamese students jumped a black guy, so they came back for revenge,” Muth said. “But they targeted anybody, anybody Asian.”

Other articles point to a more familiar dynamic – a native-born group exploiting a more vulnerable immigrant group:

Chen said there’s been some progress at the school this year – more community meetings, weekly sessions with administrators where students point out possible problems. Classes for those students learning English used to be on a separate floor, the immigrants kept away from the native English speakers, Chen said.

But new principal LaGreta Brown ended that practice, he said. Brown was not available for comment.

Other articles about community meetings added that additional, outside tensions between the black community and the Asian community in South Philadelphia could also be exacerbating the issues at school.  Minority groups can certainly hold prejudice and bias toward one another, and engage in racist actions they have learned are acceptable.  However, more may be at play here – the school’s demographic information shows a school that was much more racially balanced eight years ago, one that is plagued with withdrawals, and one that leaves the most vulnerable kids – the ones who do not have parents who can afford to send them to a better school, or who are too intimidated to navigate a bureaucracy – to fend for themselves.

The Role of Class

I looked up the website for the school, to try to find more information on the backgrounds of the students.  The school website has not updated student data since 2006; yet it confirmed a hunch I had:

The percentage of students from low-income families in 2005 – 2006 is operationally defined as the percentage of students elligible for free or reduced lunch in the Federal School Lunch Program.

Students from Low-Income Families (%): 71.8%          Citywide: 72.8%

Class is playing as large a role as race in why this story is under reported. I am relying a bit on personal experience here, but low income students, of any race, are less likely to garner as much sympathy as their wealthier counterparts. When violence erupts in schools in areas that are in areas plagued by violence, it’s reported as if it was just another day.  That’s why situations like Columbine rock headlines – the ten year anniversary of the tragic public school shooting recently passed and the news paused to remember.  Columbine was a tragedy – but one that resonated because it impacted the “safe,” predominantly white community and shattered the sense of peace.  Those of us who grew up in other types neighborhoods know that there is no peace to be had – the violence we witnessed didn’t come all at once, but consistently ebbs and flows.  And there is no outcry.  It is considered normal for poorer students and minority students to put up with some level of violence while pursuing an education. It’s just the way it is.  And the rest of the world is not moved by our plight.

I was very lucky.  None of the schools I attended, in various areas, had metal detectors or serious problems with violence.  (Or, if they had, those problems were mostly resolved by the time I enrolled.)  But my friends and family who lived in different areas were not so lucky.  And when violence happened, at their schools, when there’s a drive by near their school building or when kids are being shot in class, it wasn’t considered unusual.  The only outrage came from the community, while most people checked out the article in the Metro section, shook their heads, and turned the page.

How Administrators Perpetuate Climates of Racism and Violence in Schools

When the first response out of a principal’s mouth after a horrific attack is about violence actually dropping this year, there may be some problems with grasping the reality of the situation between the walls of the school. And when you have to revise that initial statement, we really have to wonder how engaged the administration is in ending the violence:

Officials said last night that they erred last week in saying violence was down at the school. A district spokesman said that through the end of November, assaults were up by 32 percent, to 37 this year, and overall violence was up by 5 percent, with 43 total attacks this year.

Attacks on Asian students were down by 38 percent – there were five this year through the end of November, and eight last year, September through November. These numbers don’t include last week’s violence.

30 kids don’t catch beat downs at school without the school environment signaling in some way that this is acceptable behavior. And sure enough, the signs were there:

Ellen Somekawa, executive director of Asian Americans United, said the attacks against Asian students were disturbing, but more so was the district’s reaction, which she characterized as slow and defensive. Almost a week later, some students involved have still not been interviewed, Somekawa said. [...]

Somekawa described students at the school being mocked by staff: ” ‘Where are you from? Hey, Chinese. Yo, Dragon Ball. Are you Bruce Lee? Speak English,’ ” quoting what students had told her.

Troung, the South Philadelphia student, recited a litany of problems with school staff. She singled out the security officers, who she claimed forced Asian students to follow them into a lunchroom where they were attacked and who directed the frightened students to leave school after they were beaten.

Yan Zheng, another student, said that when students were fighting in the lunch room last Thursday, “the lunch lady did not do anything to stop them, and went around cheering happily. . . . The staff shouldn’t just stand there and watch and say, ‘Stopping fights is not my job.’ ”

Duong Thang Ly said the school’s security officers “are the big problem,” saying they looked the other way when a group of African American students interrupted a lunch line and heckled a group of Asian students. They ignored groups of students as they roamed during class time, Ly said.

Many of the solutions proposed showed an astounding lack of ideas on how to solve this problem:

The Philadelphia School District has been criticized for its response, which some have characterized as slow and defensive, but officials on Friday announced a host of fixes – more police officers, more cameras, diversity training, a federal program to deal with racial tensions, an outside diversity committee, and an in-school think tank.

If the kids don’t trust the security officers now, what makes school officials think that adding more will help, especially when they have already discussed how students are reluctant to name people for fear of retribution?  How do cameras help anything but prosecution?  Carmen often explains why diversity training doesn’t work – it often is focused on protecting a company or organization by teaching people how to hide their racism, not by forcing people to challenge their own racist beliefs.  Worse still are the multicultural celebrations, that think by highlighting a groups achievements or individual culture, they can somehow stop racist attacks.  But neither of those methods work because they do not examine the root issues.  Outside committees can provide perspective, but often fail because they are too far from the community to really understand the issue, and often lack the authority to implement their recommendations, and in-school think tanks are often rife with the politics that plague the school.

Meanwhile, kids are still being targeted.

How Framing Influences Perception

Here’s an interesting thing I’ve noticed.  The kids being interviewed seem to express the same ideas over and over – while this is being promoted as a race war, the reality is a lot more complicated.

Wei Chen, a student activist who formed a Chinese-American student group after attacks that happened last year said:

Chen, 18, who stayed home from school today, stressed that it’s a small number of students making things unsafe for everyone. “I have many African American friends; they teach me to say hello,” he said, displaying an elaborate series of hand clasps and slaps, street language that makes him cool. “Every group has good students and bad students.”

And while details about the attacks still seem a bit hazy, it may be that some Asian students participated in the attacks (emphasis mine):

The meeting was a dramatic crescendo in a situation that began Dec. 2, school officials said, when a disabled African American student was beaten up by two Asian students outside school.

The next day, large groups of African American and Asian students attacked at least 30 Asian students, seven of whom required treatment at a hospital. Some of the attackers went from room to room, looking for students to target. District officials said the Thursday attacks were retaliatory, but Helen Gym, a board member of Asian American United, challenged that.

“By linking the two incidents, which involved two absolutely different sets of youth, the district seems to imply that there’s an undercurrent of justification for what happened on Thursday,” Gym said.

Officials announced last night that an outside investigator would probe what happened, beginning next week.

Six African American students and four Asian students have been suspended, and police and School District investigations are ongoing.

What the hell is that about?  It appears this story is further complicated by an insider/outsider dynamic which can be traced along racial lines, but isn’t solely the cause.

Meanwhile, other students take pains to point out that while the racial dynamics make the analysis swing in an obvious direction, the problem runs deeper than that:

It’s not just Asian students who are suffering, Truong said.

“Most of the students at South Philadelphia High School – Asian, African American, Latino and white – are just like us. They are trying to get an education in a school where they do not feel safe or respected,” said Truong.

However, it is heartening to see that despite the lackluster efforts by adults to solve the problem, the students at South Philly High School want to step up where the administation has failed:

At one point, a multiracial contingent of South Philadelphia High students asked the Asian students to come back to school.

Senior student Duong-Thang Ly thanked the students, then added: “We hope to return to school soon, but we want to the school to be safe for all of us.”

So what can be done at South Philadelphia High School?

There are no easy answers to these types of problems, particularly ones that have been going on as long as this one appears to be.  Violence will not be solved overnight. And, while we talk about issues of race and culture often here, anything I say from this point on is armchair quarterbacking – the majority of us aren’t in Philadelphia, South Philadelphia High is not our community school, and ultimately, we can’t know how the situation is actually playing out based on a handful of news articles.  But in the off chance some one is reading who can affect change at the school, I don’t want to leave them hanging.  So here’s my very general ideas for how to help stop the violence and soothe some of the inter-group issues.  Remember, this is generic advice – it will need to be adapted to the individual needs of the school before it is put in play.

Short Term Solutions – Stop Immediate Violence, Allow Kids to Attend School Safely

1.  Extensively poll the students, in confidence.  You want to make an outside task force? Set them on this task – interview every student at South Philly High School (including those who are being suspended for violent acts) about the over all school environment, race, violence, who they trust, and why.  There are 1200 or so students – go class by class, pulling every kid out one by one.  That way, no one is singled out as being the person who said anything – everyone is participating.  If you can’t do in-person discussions (which, considering the crisis level at the school, shouldn’t be too much to ask) then do written surveys in multiple languages, and have people on staff who can read and translate without sending them off anywhere else.  You want to talk about a month to cull the data, and a month to analyze it.  These kids don’t have a year or two years to waste while people are writing reports – they need relief now.

2. One of the key narratives is that immigrant students are being attacked.  These are the kids who are the most vulnerable, yet they have revealed school officials cannot be trusted with listening to their concerns.  While all this is being resolved, reinstate the policy that Chen referred to of pulling the students out of regular rotation with the rest of the student body.  ESL students do learn better if they are exposed to people who speak English as a first language, but these effects are negligible if the students are too fearful to interact.  This should be done immediately, while the data is being gathered.  Pull the kids to their own floor again, provide them with a separate lunch period or allow them to take lunch in the classrooms where they are most comfortable.  Reroute the most sympathetic security officers to provide back up in the ESL wing/floor and to work with the ESL teachers to identify students who are prone to being bullied.  Do not bring police into a school environment.  That is generally a toxic influence, especially when so many youth of color have learned (through words or actions) not to trust the police.  If you want to post a patrol outside of the building, fine.  But many on the police force are not trained to deal with adolescents, outside of programs like D.A.R.E. or other outreach initiatives.  Officers are there to provide policing and force, and that is not an element you want to introduce to the school.  Kids don’t learn on lockdown.  Get more security officers, particularly ones who worked with schools or with rehabilitative juvenile justice programs.

3. I’ll bet a major problem in this school revolves around staff, be it staff turnover or staff shortages.  One teacher explains she left because of all the attacks on foreign-born students she felt helpless to stop.  Get more staff in there, both teachers, teaching assistants, or security.  More sets of (engaged) eyes will help to stem the flow of violence.   If this is not feasible or too expensive, ask organizations like Teach for America or community organizations and leaders to lend some volunteers to the school to be witnesses.  You do not want people to engage with violent students (that what security is for) but you do want to make it so that there are enough adults around so that kids think twice about attacking people.

4.  Pinpoint violent offenders and remove them from the flow of students. According to the school’s own data, in 2005 some 150 students were suspended more than three times over the course of the school year. What are these kids doing to get suspended so often? Are they being violent toward other students? If so, remove them from general matriculation and put them in an In School Suspension program.  Don’t just send them home – give them their work and sequester them somewhere else, so that other students can learn in peace.  Also, have teachers keep an eye out for violent bullies, and recommend those kids spend a day or two in ISS.  I stress this is a temporary solution – most of the kids you meet in ISS will need more help than a school system can give, and may need counseling, removal from abusive home environments, special needs classes for undiagnosed learning issues – it could be any cause. However, the short term goal is getting kids back into school and feeling safe, and a part of that will be removing the admittedly small number of students who are masterminding the problems.

Long Term Solutions – Promote a Safe and Harmonious School Environment for All Students

1. There can be no racial harmony without trust.  However, many of these kids don’t trust each other, or the outside school environment.  This type of reform takes years, but I would suggest starting with each incoming class of freshman and finding time in home room or something equivalent to talk and journal about issues that are impacting them. They need to know that school is a space for them to reflect and that school officials will have their best interests at heart.  Part of this is by establishing connections with more of the students.

2. We want to encourage cross-cultural friendships. A lot of the kids that spoke out were not the ones being abused.  And many of the student leaders referenced having friends of different groups.  This should be encouraged.  Tap the more outgoing kids to become student leaders, and allow them to lead discussion groups and influence the administration on how best to promote kindness and understanding. Friendship is more powerful than rhetoric.

3.  Much of these tensions probably result from community issues spilling into the space of the school.  So a lot of community healing may be in order.  Again, not being based in Philly, I’m not sure how things have changed or what is causing the outrage and lack of empathy, but looking at some of those issues may help kids to engage with school a bit better.

4. Advocate for more resources at the school.  Teachers can only do so much.  Guidance counselors can only do so much.  To succeed and flourish, a school must be able to meet the needs of most students at the school. Outside of safety, what else is happening? Are the students disengaging with the curriculum? Is there a clear path to college, or a trade, or does an adult life feel unattainable for most students? Use the data gathered by the task force to figure out what your students need, and find a way to provide it.

Source Articles:

Allegations of racial tensions at South Philadelphia High
Asian students vow to continue school boycott
Asian students describe violence at South Philadelphia High
100 rally to support S. Phila. High’s Asian students
Principal had a rocky end at old job
Asians say officials, not kids, are the problem at South Philly high

Wesley Du, creator of the film I wrote about here, has agreed to host to the film on YouTube so that everyone can have a chance to see it. (Thanks Wes!)

Here is the film, parts one and two.

As you formulate your responses, I’d like you to keep a couple things in mind:

1. How much does your race influence how you perceive this film?

2. How does this film factor into the conversations we attempt to have about the Things We Do To Each Other? As in, discussions of interracial tension that occurs between nonwhite groups?

ETA: This movie is going to dredge up some complicated feelings. It is ok to voice these, just like it is ok to be unsure how to feel. But what I am looking for in responses is engagement with the material – why do you feel the way you do? I already received a comment that is a disappointment (that will not be approved), so I want to make this clear – you can feel however you want about this film. However, I want people to articulate why they feel that way(if you are unsure, articulate that too) and what feelings this film brought to the surface. – LDP

I was going to begin this post be talking about Mohandas Gandhi. I was going to chastise Bernice King, daughter of slain civil rights leader Martin Luther King, Jr., and new leader of the civil rights organization Southern Christian Leadership Conference (SCLC), for her hateful pronouncement, recounted in The Guardian: “I know down in my sanctified soul that [MLK] did not take a bullet for samesex unions.”

I was going to point out that Gandhi, who is said to have inspired MLK, did not take a bullet for black Americans. His cause was the oppressed people of India. But the universal truth of his message–resistance to tyranny, nonviolence and the fundamental equality of all people–was as applicable on the North American continent as the Asian one. Bernice King’s father realized that. How small and hateful and contrary to the legacy of Mahatma Gandhi it would have been if, during the height of the U.S. Civil Rights movement, a surviving family member had proclaimed that “down in their souls” they were certain that Gandhi didn’t take a bullet for Negroes to ride on the front of the bus.

To my surprise, while doing a little research on the martyr known as “The Great One,” I discovered that, though time has cemented Gandhi in the public consciousness as a loving but determined champion for world equality. He may well not have supported civil rights for all marginalized people.

From Wikipedia:

Some of Gandhi’s early South African articles are controversial. On 7 March 1908, Gandhi wrote in the Indian Opinion of his time in a South African prison: “Kaffirs are as a rule uncivilized – the convicts even more so. They are troublesome, very dirty and live almost like animals.”[14] Writing on the subject of immigration in 1903, Gandhi commented: “We believe as much in the purity of race as we think they do… We believe also that the white race in South Africa should be the predominating race.”[15] During his time in South Africa, Gandhi protested repeatedly about the social classification of blacks with Indians, who he described as “undoubtedly infinitely superior to the Kaffirs”.[16] It is worth noting that during Gandhi’s time, the term Kaffir had a different connotation than its present-day usage. Remarks such as these have led some to accuse Gandhi of racism.[17]

and…

In 1906, after the British introduced a new poll-tax, Zulus in South Africa killed two British officers. In response, the British declared a war against the Zulus. Gandhi actively encouraged the British to recruit Indians. He argued that Indians should support the war efforts in order to legitimize their claims to full citizenship. The British, however, refused to commission Indians as army officers. Nonetheless, they accepted Gandhi’s offer to let a detachment of Indians volunteer as a stretcher bearer corps to treat wounded British soldiers. This corps was commanded by Gandhi. On 21 July 1906, Gandhi wrote in Indian Opinion: “The corps had been formed at the instance of the Natal Government by way of experiment, in connection with the operations against the Natives consists of twenty three Indians”.[22] Gandhi urged the Indian population in South Africa to join the war through his columns in Indian Opinion: “If the Government only realized what reserve force is being wasted, they would make use of it and give Indians the opportunity of a thorough training for actual warfare.”[23] In Gandhi’s opinion, the Draft Ordinance of 1906 brought the status of Indians below the level of Natives. He therefore urged Indians to resist the Ordinance along the lines of satyagraha by taking the example of “Kaffirs“. In his words, “Even the half-castes and kaffirs, who are less advanced than we, have resisted the government. The pass law applies to them as well, but they do not take out passes.”[24]

I was wrong about Gandhi having a message of world equality. At least early in his life he believed that some people are more equal than others.

What is it about us that makes us fight for our own freedom and equality, but sit comfortably with the bondage and oppression of others? Even the man heralded as one of the world’s greatest civil rights leaders believed “all men are created equal”…but for those over there.

My discovery convinced me of two things:

The greatest battle for marginalized peoples may not be the biases of the majority culture, but the way those biases are embraced by minority cultures. How much stronger would all of the equality movements be if we were working together to cement the idea that EVERYONE, regardless of gender, race, sexuality, ability, etc., deserved basic human rights and respect? Instead, we learn to hate ourselves, while fighting to demonstrate our superiority over other marginalized people. We fight each other over scraps. We fail to leverage our own dehumanization as a tool to empathize with the dehumanization of others. Instead, we seek to demonstrate, as Gandhi once advocated in South Africa, “See, majority, we’re just like you. The pair of us are equally better than those people.” I deserve rights; they do not.

The fight for equality and human rights might well be over if marginalized people worked together. But we do not.

I think, this is also true: it does not matter what Gandhi thought of black people or what Martin Luther King thought of gay people. For all the deification, they are both just men, fallible men–men of a different time and place (Mohandas Gandhi was born in the 19th century, for goodness sake.), men who were just as influenced by the biases of their day as any of us are, men like those who wrote “all men are created equal” and yet owned men, women and children as property. Do we even know whether MLK would have approved of a woman (his daughter or no) as head of the SCLC? His views and treatment of women were not exactly enlightened. That Gandhi did not believe in the inherent equality of all brown people; that King may not have approved of gay marriage–I couldn’t care less.

TODAY matters. It matters that we come to understand that “divided we fall” in the battle for human rights. It matters that we learn that if you are not about justice for all, you are not about justice and that a civil rights organization that does not advocate for across the board human rights is not a civil rights organization. (This goes as much for homophobic black civil rights groups as it does for gay rights groups that marginalize people of color and transgender people.) And that a civil rights leader who takes time out from advocating for equality to call out who, in fact, should not be equal, is not much of a leader at all–pedigree be damned.

One of the reasons I enjoy shorts programs is the sheer variety of content that you see.  After eyeing the selections at the DC APA Film Fest this year, I decided to head over to check out the “You Thought You Had It Tough” series.  While I had originally gone for Excuse My Gangsta Ways (which I discussed over at Jezebel), there was another movie that caught my attention from the first frame: Wesley Du’s If I Was Like You.

(Warning: Massive Spoilers Ahead.  Race is woven into the plot, so I can’t easily discuss the film without revealing the major plot points of the movie.  If you have a chance to see it, I highly suggest you do so.  )

The films opens with a sign that will be the focal point of the story.

The full sign reads “If I was a nigger like you, would my son be dead?”

The rest of the story snaps between past events and the situation unfolding in the neighborhood.  Daniel, a single father, lives for his son Billy and has created a quiet life in South Central, Los Angeles.    However, Billy runs afoul of some local thugs over money, and he is found murdered on the sidewalk.

Daniel searches for answers but no one in the neighborhood is willing to speak up, for fear of retribution.  Frustrated and filled with rage, he finally erects the sign and stands on the porch with a bat, using his racist words to provoke the outrage he craved with his son’s death.

What I found most compelling about the film was the attention to detail.  This was not a simple case of racial tensions flaring.  In the beginning of the film, the African-American members of the community debated amongst themselves on how best to proceed.  Two members of the community, obviously friends with Daniel, tried to persuade him to take down the sign before things got violent.  A group of youths showed up and started making threats while Daniel stood waiting for an excuse to start swinging with a bat, and a black woman tries to reason with the crowd, pointing out how there was little to no reaction from the community to his son’s death, even though the murder occurred outside, close to where they were standing.

Eventually, a police officer shows up, the same one who had informed Daniel there wasn’t much that could be done in the case of Billy’s death.  When Daniel refuses to put down his bat, the officer pulls out his pistol.

As the film rockets toward its conclusion, the attention to detail remains strong, even including one of the gathering instigators yelling at the police officer, “Man, if he was black, he would have been shot!”

After the lights went up, the filmmakers filed down to the front of the theater for Q & A.

I was surprised to find that this short was Wesley Du’s first project, as it was skillfully acted and wonderfully concived.  Still, I had a question burning in my mind, so I put my hand up and was awarded the floor.

Addressing Wesley, I asked “Was it intentional to make the officer white? Or was that just a quirk of casting?”

Du informed me that the casting was intentional, and that while his team had gone back and forth about the race of the officer, they ultimately concluded that it would be an interesting reversal to have the white officer protecting the black people in the community.  I read the scene a little differently (more along the lines of state sponsored violence and being treated like a criminal by those supposed to protect you) but obviously, I’ll defer to the filmmaker’s intent.

Ultimately, the film was an interesting exploration of how tensions develop across racial lines.  Turning away from sensationalism, Du’s film shines by humanzing the internal conflicts within various characters, and having the courage to confront a difficult issue head on.

(If I Was Like You, Directed by: Wesley Du. Runtime: 13 min, Year: 2009. Country: USA )